Mid Life Crisis
by NurseLintu
Summary: Dean Winchester has a mid life crisis at in his mid twenties after losing his wife and step son. With a fresh start, he finds comfort in the new freakin hot! guy across the road who rescued him from certain death by car breakdownery. It's all hugs and puppies until his past catches up with him. Heavy slash, alcohol use, mature content... Please be warned
1. Chapter 1

Dean spent the first few weeks after he officially moved in settling in to the new house and making it home. He didn't go out of his way to interact with his neighbors, but it seemed that every night, in turn, his neighbors would pay him a visit, dressed in their Sunday Best, brandishing a plate; cake from Gage and Great Johnston form across the road, various flavored bread sticks from Alysha and Michael Wells from two doors down; their twins Ava and Adam had given him handmade cards saying 'Welcome To The Neighborhood'. Carly – who _clearly _had a crush on Dean judging by the way she blushed and twister her hands when he looked at her – and her fiancé Krishen brought sandwiches and beer. Dean had done the neighborly thing and invited every visitor in and made them drinks and offered them flapjacks, but the conversation had been stiff and not steering away from how he'd needed a change from city life and wanted to get more out in to the country, change his career, and a Monday to Friday 9 til 5 had taken its toll on him, and he wanted a more mundane every day job – he didn't really need the money anyway, but he didn't mention that – before his soul was totally destroyed. No he didn't have any kids, yes he is single, and he has a brother and an Uncle who would be visiting regularly, and he wanted them to have a bedroom each to sleep in, and if anything were to happen to either of them, there was the insurance of Dean's house for them to come to.

Carly, Krishen and Dean had spent the evening on the back decking, talking about the weather and football. When it had grown cold, they had retired inside. The TV impressed them, and Dean had allowed Kris – as he preferred to be called – free reign of the remote. As Kris flicked through the channels, mouth agape in awe at the 60" screen ahead of him, Carly shyly turned to Dean and smiled. "So," she tapped on her nearly empty can of beer in her hand. "Is there a _Mrs _Dean Winchester?" She instantly regretted asking.

Dean sat back as if he'd been hit in the chest, blinked and flexed his jaw.

"I-I-I... I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..." She looked to her fiancé for help, "I'm sorry."

Dean finally relaxed, and he looked in Carly's general direction, deliberately avoiding eye contact. "It's fine." He sighed. "There's no one, no." His gut twisted painfully. He rubbed his eyes absently. "I think I'm going to turn in. You're more than welcome to stay,"

Carly jumped to her feet. "Thank you, but we're only next door."

They bid their goodbyes, their good nights and their see you arounds, and Dean was finally alone. He glanced at the time. 11.57pm. Oh boy. He was going to have a big, deep, bubbly bath. And no amount of beating himself up about being a big girl was going to stop him.

6am he dragged himself out of bed. He'd been awake for a good twenty minutes anyway, and it was clear that sleep was _not _going to return to him, so he would be as well to get up and do something. He ate a breakfast of muesli and brown toast, then poured out a fresh cup of coffee, which he set on the side to cool. He cleaned up and washed the dirty dishes, cleared the coffee then snapped on his headband.

The air outside was crisp, and the wind had a sharp, icy bite. With just a tank top, shorts, socks and running shoes to combat the winter chill, Dean figured it would be best to set off quickly and keep going.

He fell in to a good routine of the early morning run, but Dean felt there was something missing in his life. He had all the material possessions he wanted, but there was a hollow, besides the obvious. An unscratchable itch. He needed a job. So he searched. He landed a casual job in a bar through old family friends – Dean barely remembered Ellen, and Jo hadn't yet been born when John had been working with Ellen's husband - long hours and crap pay, but it put food in the cupboards and beer in the refrigerator. And wine in the larder. And vodka. And gin. Whiskey. Rum... Dean closed the door. "No more." He scolded himself. He shook his head staggering through the living room, then steadying himself by the window. _Go on. The whole street will be in bed now, it's sometime around 1. No one's going to see what a fucking useless mess drunkard you are_.

He steeled a peek out the window. That house. The one opposite his own. The one with the blinds permanently closed. He _thought _he'd seen a removals van outside it a few days previously, but he'd been in a rush almost late for work – and there was no way he'd be late for work, or his boss would have his guts for garters – and was only a little bit sure that it had pulled up at that house. It would make sense. That and Dean's houses were at the end of the cul de sac, and he'd met the families of every other house in the road. No one had said anything about moving, and in a place like this, everything was everyone's business. No one had spoken of the house opposite Dean's. Not in any details more than 'I think it's empty' and that had been _after _the removal van, so perhaps it had just taken a wrong turning. But by fuck, there was a _car _ in the driveway. Being a slight nerd for cars, Dean knew what car each household had, and this was definitely not from the locals. Even if it was, it'd be a bit strange having it randomly parked in front of a vacant house. He couldn't see too well in the dimly lit street, but Dean could just make out that it was shiny and possibly black. The blinds in the bottom left window twitched. "What the..." Had someone been at the window watching him watching them? It was a sobering thought as Dean finished his dozenth glass of Jim. The glass shattered on the floor when Dean jumped and swore. He looked at the shards littering the floor. "Dammit." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, flipped it open and answered it.

"_Hey Dean, how you settling in?"_

Dean rolled his eyes and headed to the kitchen for the dust pan and brush. "Damn, Sammy, you scared the crap outta mree-me." He winced.

A sharp sigh from the other end of the line made Dean's heart sink. _"Have you been drinking again?"_

Dean felt as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "No." He lied.

Silence.

"Sammy?" Dean brushed the broken glass in to the dustpan. "Sam-"

"_Dean!"_ His younger brother cut in. Another sigh. _"You have to stop, Dean,"_

"I know-"

"_I really don't think you do, Dean."_

He hated it when Sam used this tone with him. He knelt down, and had the brush resting loosely on his leg.

"_Remember Dad, Dean. What it turned him in to. What it did to him. And what it did to Mom." _

There it was. The words he didn't want to hear. The tears started falling, but he wouldn't let his baby brother know he'd struck a chord with him. He wouldn't sob down the phone and beg for help.

"_Dean,"_ His brother's voice took on a stern overtone. _"Remember what it did to-"_

"You dare finish that sentence, Samuel, and so help me _God _I will go straight up there and I will kick your ass in to the middle of next millennium._"_ With that, he slammed the phone shut and hurled it across the room. He knew that later, he would be glad it landed on the Lazy Boy chair.

Dean poured the shattered glass in to the bin, and then he ran. He ran through the living room, the hallway, up the stairs, he turned left, ploughed through the door ahead of him and collapsed to his knees, catching hold of the toilet bowl just in time to hurl in to it.

Dean couldn't remember getting to his bedroom, but he woke the next morning sprawled on his bed, his tee removed somehow twisted up in the sheets, his trousers undone but not removed and his head. Oh _God _his head was pounding.

He made it through the day on a diet of coffee, aspirin and dry bread.

Even after a shower and a weak attempt to gel his hair, Ellen had tutted at him and threatened to kick his ass if he came in to work hungover again. Something about that woman, little though she was, put the fear of God in to Dean. He would damn sure not come in hung over again. The prickles of fear were still working their magic when Ellen's daughter Jo walked in to the bar. She earned several looks, but everyone knew better than to pass comment with Ellen around. There was no doubting she was a hottie, and Dean enjoyed sneaking a peek at her when she bent over a table to wipe it down, or she reached up to the top shelf for a drink. He was enjoying a prolonged glance at her as she was rummaging through the bag she'd had on her shoulder, when a sharp backhand on the backside made Dean just about drop the glass he had been pretending to wash for the last minute or so.

Ellen's eyes were already glaring disapprovingly at Dean when he turned round. She allowed a beat for effect. "Bar please, Winchester. I need to pop downstairs,"

Dean nodded. "Yes Ma'am,"

Ellen looked to her daughter then back at Dean. She pointed a finger mere inches from his face. "You so much as touch a hair on my daughter's head." She didn't need to say anything else.

"Absolutely not, Ma'am," It wasn't her _head _he was interested in. Ellen smiled at Dean, a smile that grew infinitesimally when Dean flinched at the rough pat she applied to his arm. "Good." She left, but it was still a moment before Dean dared to move.

"Hi Dean," That heart stopping smile did its job as Jo walked behind the bar, not losing eye contact with him.

Dean smiled stiffly, then turned away, grunting something resembling a reply. He got to work serving the customers, all of whom were dressed in sorry looking clothes; a lot of faded denim, chequered flannel shirts, dirty tank tops, old boots and well worn coats. No one looked happy, Dean had noticed during his short time in the job. Sure he would see smiles, hear jokes and laughter, but accompanying the half hearted smiles, he would see a distant, pained look in their eyes. Somehow, Dean knew these people had seen things no person would wish to see. Things no one deserved to see or have to deal with.

Dean spotted a girl who couldn't have been more than nineteen. She sported a fresh bruise on her right cheek, and she was running a dirty hand around the top of a glass of something Dean would turn a blind eye to. He felt himself begin to heat up with rage at the thought of the young girl cowering in a corner, sobbing and begging for mercy as her probably drunken boyfriend shouted abuse at her, waving a half empty bottle, taunting her before landing a heft wallop across her face. Maybe he had fitted in a boot to the guts for good measure. Dean made the decision to catch up with her on his break. If the boyfriend decided he didn't like it, didn't like Dean, he would have to take the issue up with Dean himself. And Dean would give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Dean," Ellen's voice made him jump. He looked in her direction, and she indicated a waiting customer.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean spent the following fortnight in a kind of trance; he felt like he was outside of his body, watching it go about its daily business; 6am run, scrambled eggs on toast and a strawberry and banana smoothie for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch, then some piss poor excuse of a dinner around 6pm before setting off to The Roadhouse to spend until the silly hours serving rough looking drunken louts various forms of alcohol that they didn't need. On the nights he didn't work, Dean would sit on his bedroom balcony making his way through most of a bottle of something potent. The reflection that stared back at Dean frightened him, and he couldn't help thinking to himself _Dean Reznik. _Then his mind would fight back. _It wasn't you, Dean. You didn't do it. _

"Dean?" It was Jo's turn to make Dean jump.

He looked at her and forced a smile. "Sorry, I didn't sleep well." He explained.

"You look like Hell,"

Dena blinked, then flashed his million dollar smile. "Why thank you," He couldn't stop his eyes dropping to her cleavage as she leaned forward to place a caring hand on his.

"We're closing up early tonight,"

Dean nodded. _Thank fuck for that._ He left it unsaid.

"Mom and I are leaving first thing tomorrow," She looked away, moving her hand to stroke the bar gently.

Dean swallowed.

"We'll be out of town for a few days, so you'll have some time off,"

Dean's lips moved before he spoke, then he spat out, "Everything okay?"

Jo nodded, her brow creasing, and she bit her bottom lip.

Dean swallowed again.

"We'll be in touch," She gave a shy smile and turned and pranced off, leaving Dean on his own. He definitely enjoyed that sight. He smirked to himself then turned to the next customer, scolding himself silently.

Okay, so maybe Dean was thinking about Jo on the drive home, in a way that would make Ellen kick his ass, but Dean was a hot blooded male, and Jo... Well, she was just... "Son of a..." Dean muttered as his car choked and spluttered to a stop on the side of the road. A mechanic by trade – and in Dean's case, by _nature, _his Uncle Bobby had always said he was born to it – Dean serviced and maintained his car himself, Hell, he'd even rebuilt her from scratch. His mind whizzed as he turned the key, only to receive a lazy _whup-whup-whup _from the engine in reply. Dean's heart sank at the thought of having to get rid of his baby and get another, surely crappier, car. Nothing could replace his beautiful black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. The car had been passed down to him from his late Father; she couldn't die on him, too. The engine gave no signs of what had caused this random temper tantrum, but moonlight was hardly the most reliable source to go by. Dean glanced at his watch. "Dammit." It was too late to call anyone else – not that he'd bothered to get the contact number of any local mechanics – and his breakdown cover had expired a week ago. Shock. It was going to be a long night.

Dean was grateful for the stranger who jump started his car. The stranger who stared at him too intently for his liking, who didn't seem to understand how to smile, and who appeared to have no qualms with personal space whatsoever. Dean tried to subtly slither away from the stranger when he leaned in too close to have a critical look at the engine, then tut and walk away. What was that supposed to mean? The stranger with enormous electric blue eyes and a mass of scruffy dark hair. _Sex hair._ Dean thought to himself, then shook the thought off; chased it away in his brain with a metaphorical stick. _Bed hair, Dean. _Bed _hair. _

Try as he might, Dean couldn't make the connection between the stubbly man, dressed in an untucked white blouse, medium blue jeans and heavy leather boots, and the slender, shiny black Merc the man had pulled up in.

"Thanks man, you saved my life," Dean stepped out of his car, not risking turning off the engine, and dropped the hood gently. Didn't want to hurt his baby now, no matter how cross he was with her.

"It's no problem," The man replied in a deep, gravelly voice. _Sex voice. _He closed the hood of his Merc, then turned to face Dean, wrapping the jump leads up slowly. "Where were you headed at this time of night, anyway?" He didn't look up.

Dean pointed absently with his thumb in the general direction of Jo and Ellen's bar. "Home. I worked late at The Roadhouse,"

A look of recognition crossed the other man's face as he nodded, obviously caught up in some fond memory. "Ah yes. I drop by there on my journey back from my brother's."

Dean nodded, but had nothing to remark. He cleared his throat. "I'm Dean, by the way," He offered out his hand. "Dean Winchester."

"Like the rifle?"

Dean hadn't heard _that _one before, had he? He echoed the words tiredly.

"Castiel Novak," He finally took Dean's hand, and looked him in the eyes, perhaps a little too deep and for a little longer than made Dean feel comfortable.

Withdrawing his hand, Dean cleared his throat again. "You local then?"

"I live opposite you, Dean,"

Something inside knotted up as he studied Castiel's stern expression. _Jesusfuck, this is it. I'm gonna die! This man is gonna kill me. Butchered by a raggedly handsome off duty tax accountant meets rock star... Wait, is that a smile...?_

Castiel indicated Dean's car. "Not many of these beauties round these parts."

Dean let out his breath and smiled broadly. He leaned against her proudly. "She's really something, isn't she? Been in the family a long while."

Castiel's eyes sparkled as he watched Dean croon over his car, and Dean wasn't sure if he had only imagined a lustful look in Castiel's eyes as he leaned in to the car and reached for his notebook and pen. "You should come over for a beer at some point." He scribbled on the paper quickly then tore it from the pad, swiftly jamming it in to Castiel's hand, avoiding prolonged physical contact. "As a thank you." Dean flashed a perfect smile and received a meek smile in return from Castiel.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Dry for a week?"_

"Dry for a week." Dean confirmed, staring blankly for a moment. He heard a doubtful sigh on the other end of the phone.

Neither brother spoke for a few moments, but Dean could hear Sam shuffling papers. "So." Sam finally broke the silence. "Did you find out what was wrong with your car?"

Dean rinsed the salad under the tap then set it on the draining board. "That time of the month I guess."

Sam chuckled. "You were lucky that guy rescued you; from what I remember, it's a pretty remote road out to The Roadhouse,"

Dean nodded, not really registering the fact that his brother couldn't actually see the gesture through the phone line. "Lucky, yeah."

"Dean-"

"Sam... don't."

Sigh.

"Sam..." Dean rubbed his eyes. "I'm tired." He let out a long suffering sigh.

"Okay man. Just remember."

"Goodbye Sam."

"Bye Dean,"

Dean looked at his phone for a while, then served up his dinner.

Dean held to his no drinking policy for another two days, but an unintentional late afternoon cat nap on the couch flooded him with nightmares that ended him in the downstairs WC, arms laid in a circle around the seat of the toilet, head resting on his arms. After depositing the day's food, Dean freshened up then returned to staring at the television. He stirred his lemon iced tea absently, craving something stronger. It didn't take long for him to cave and treat himself to something stronger. Just to wash away the images in his head. _Just a couple of beers. Just a whiskey. Just another. Just one more. _

A knock on the door startled Dean. He considered ignoring it, but decided he'd be best to keep up his good neighbor image and answer, wearing his jogging pants and grey top, towel around his shoulders, and he'd wince at the street light, smile and apologize. He'd have a fever, be literally just heading to bed; they just caught him in time. Didn't want them to catch it. He put on his best ill face and opened the door. "Cas?" Dean didn't fail to notice the surprised reaction to the inadvertent nickname. He motioned for Castiel to come in before he knew what he was doing, then offered him a beer and the TV remote.

A little while later, the two of them were comfy, Dean on the lazy boy, legs raised, towel still around his shoulders, and Castiel sunk back in to the sofa, legs set apart, right arm draping over the arm of the sofa, his fingertips resting on the table beside him.

They told tales of their exploits since their last encounter – not that there was a great deal to tell on either part outside the realms of work and feeding the cat – and a special news report set the men off putting the world to rights.

By the end of the night, they had annihilated two bags of popcorn, whilst definitely _not _watching Mean Girls and agreeing that in this film, Lindsay Lohan is _definitely _doable. They had finished the remainder of the crate of beer, and were treating themselves to a sly blackberry vodka that no one would ever find out about. Dean had migrated on to the sofa and he, at some point, turned towards Castiel – who was in the same position – and pulled his right leg up on to the sofa; his other knee had become a footrest for it. He popped a piece popcorn in his mouth and chewed slowly, his brain ready for nothing but sleep.

"Did you find out what was wrong with your car?" Castiel's voice had taken on an even deeper tone as the night had worn on, and now with the TV turned off, it was scarcely more than a whisper.

Dean held his arms up in a gesture of I-don't-know, careful not to spill his drink. "Beats me. I keep my baby in perfect condition. She must have been having a bad night,"

Castiel's eyes were trained on Dean's lips as he spoke, and he didn't so much as move until Dean finished his sentence.

"Lucky you came by," Dean noticed faintest trace of a smile cross Castiel's face at that. "What were you doing on the road at that time of night?" Dean winced slightly as he remembered his wild serial killer idea.

"Family," Cas tapped on his empty glass and finally looked away.

Dean nodded; obviously not a subject to pursue. After an awkward pause, Dean set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, sitting up straight. "Thanks for coming over tonight man,"

Castiel sat up, still not looking at Dean.

"We should do it again some time. I mean dinner or something, if you wanted to bring the wife and kids...?" Dean hadn't heard Castiel mention either, but in a perfect neighborhood like this – even Carly and Kris had announced they were expecting, and thank goodness the wedding was only two weeks away, or Carly would have had to have bought a new dress – he imagined himself to be the only bachelor around.

"That's a kind offer, Dean." Cas breathed in reply, still staring at the same patch of floor as if it held all the answers to life's questions. "Of course, I have no wife nor children to bring along." His eyes creased gently at the corners, and he finally looked Dean square in the eyes, if Dean didn't know better, he'd've thought there was a challenge, almost an _invitation _in those eyes. If he didn't know better. After a long moment, his eyes dropped to Dean's lips, then to the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Oh," Dean managed, feeling his stomach flip uncomfortably. He finished his drink and swirled the empty glass. "You could still come over? We could get a take away or something?" _Fuck, Dean. Why not suggest a chick flick and face packs? _

Castiel looked back at Dean. "This Friday. 7 pm. I'll bring popcorn," His eyes twinkled as he stood up, stretching and flexing the muscles in his arms and legs, then arching his back and jutting his hips to one side.

Dean couldn't stop his eyes from darting down when Castiel's shirt untucked itself and revealed a toned tummy, which was glistening slightly in the dim light. He swallowed, fighting back a strange, unwarranted urge to grab the loose shirt and reel in the toy surprise and... he wasn't quite sure what, but he looked away awkwardly all the same. He just hoped Cas hadn't noticed his peculiar behavior, and God _forbid _had he seen the sneak peek. Sure, Cas wasn't married, but there could be any number of reasons for that. And if he was totally honest, Dean didn't want to frighten off the only person in this town he had actually felt completely at ease with. Well, save for the initial fear of him being some kind of murderer.

Castiel stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned to Dean, his right index finger raised. "Salted or sweet?"

Dean frowned in a moment of utter confusion, then his face relaxed, and he nodded. "Go crazy. Get both,"

The creases returned around Castiel's eyes, and his eyes sparkled, and he gave a silent nod, before turning back and jogging across the road – in his slippers, Dean reminded himself – leaving Dean standing alone on his doorstep. His eyes drifted to his car and he glowered at her. He had the strangest feeling that her little temper tantrum had been the start to a new, possibly dark chapter in his life. He looked back just in time to see Castiel's front door close. For no apparent reason, Dean continued to watch the house, mildly perplexed at the absence of lights flickering on and off in the windows as Cas presumably wandered about the house getting ready for bed and feeding the cat. He'd mentioned needing to feed the cat, Dean was sure. That and needing a shower. He had a meeting the next day, it was with a notorious company to discuss some kind of business plan – Dean had been listening, but somewhere between watching Cas' lips move as the words tumbled out from between them, and admiring how his long dark lashes brought out the color of his eyes, and agreeing with himself that Cas really could pull off the 5 o clock shadow look, and with that damn sex hair – it had been pushed over in a gentle side parting, which softened his features dramatically – and somewhere in that avalanche of thoughts and mixed feelings that accompanied them, the words had lost all meaning to Dean. Cas had finished up the night by stroking down his fringe and muttering something about having to look good or at least _mildly presentable _for the meeting, but Dean thought he looked damn fine as he was. Dean closed his front door as if to close out that thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean filled out time by spring cleaning the house, gardening and working on his baby, She didn't need anything doing, but Dean liked to preen her nonetheless.

Okay, so maybe sometimes he'd stand back, flash an award winning smile and tip a wave at a passing-by neighbor, and his eyes would sneak a look at the silent house across the street. Dean was pretty sure he hadn't seen the Merc move since the night Castiel had visited him. The curtains in the windows of the house seemed to always be drawn. Dean longed for any sign of the man who had been infecting his thoughts, and a dream or three, for the past weeks. A sign that he was alive, and Hell eventually even a sign that he actually _existed. _

Thursday evening, he'd sat on his front porch, fussing a cat whom had decided Dean was his best friend, knocking back iced teas like they were Jagerbombs, and keeping his eyes blatantly on Castiel's house. A movement of a downstairs curtain had prickled his interest, and he sat forward in his chair, earning a hurt, disapproving look from the ginger moggy, for daring to move whilst she was curled up on his lap, gracing him with her loudest and most satisfied purrs. Dean felt his stomach knot up in that familiar way as the anticipation hit him, and he waited for Cas to appear in his doorway, dressed in slacks and a tank top, and look over at Dean with those baby blues, and...

"Dean!"

True to his recently jittery form, Dean almost lost his drink, and he hissed in pain as the cat slid from his lap, clawing desperately at the soft flesh of his inner thighs as she tried to save her own hide.

Carly climbed the steps slowly, dressed in a tight, long top that showed off the slightest hint of a bump, and sat herself down on one of the chairs next to Dean. "Kris is on his way now. He's just getting the beers out of the cooler."

Dean forced a smile and looked at Carly, just in time to catch her following his gaze to the house across the street. Carly seemed to stiffen up when she looked at the house, and she muttered something about the guy being a bit of a creep, I mean he's been there a few weeks now, and no one has even met him yet.

Dean felt a pang of anger at the comment. "Never judge a book by its cover." He murmured. Upon looking at Carly's mildly shocked, and definitely worried, expression, Dean smiled warmly and corrected himself. "I'm sure he's a nice guy, really. Just a bit shy I guess."

Carly nodded once, unconvinced, then a horribly uncomfortable moment passed, before Dean offered Carly a drink and asked for a progress report on baby bump, and how she in general was feeling, because he'd picked up enough from watching too much TV to know that pregnant women loved to inundate anyone and everyone with every minute detail of the goings on in their pregnancy, and he was vaguely aware of her harping on about the side the baby would be now, and that they could probably tell the sex, but she and Kris had both decided they wanted a surprise. Dean put in the odd "Uh huh" and "_Really?" _And "Oh that's lovely." When he felt it appropriate, without stealing Carly's thunder. Dean offered the glass of chilled lemon water to Carly, before tucking the water jug back in to the refrigerator door. They trollied back out to the front porch and sat down, another uncomfortable silence threatening to bestow them, but Lady Luck delivered Kris out of the next house along, equipped with a crate under one arm and a bottle of something else in the other hand. He jogged up Dean's drive and path ways, and handed the bottle to Carly. "Hey Mrs. B," Kris clucked at the cat as he ascended the steps on to the front porch, but Mrs. B stopped cleaning herself, got to her feet and stalked off, tail standing straight up like a flag pole, pausing only to shoot a final betrayed look at Dean before trotting off down the road. "Oh dear," Kris commented, opening and handing a beer to Dean. "She's more hormonal than the missus here." He kissed his almost-wife affectionately in a bid to prevent himself from being turned in to stone. He clinked his bottle with Dean's, and they droned a hearty "_Cheers,_" in unison, then Kris sat down next to Carly, placing a protective arm around her. He indicated the beer. "You don't mind, do you baby?"

Carly smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "Have one for me," They kissed, and Dean looked away.

"So, Dean," Kris swigged his beer, "Work good?"

Dean looked at Kris, a moment of panic passing through him, wherein he thought he was going to have to ask Kris to repeat himself, but he stuttered a couple of times as he pieced together what he thought he had heard. "Yeah, uh, well, Ellen and Jo have taken off for a few days, so," He opened his arms and gestured vaguely, "here I am." He glanced at Castiel's house. It didn't go unnoticed.

Kris looked from the other house to Dean. "You all right man? That dude ain't giving you hassle, is he?"

"No, no, no... No." Hassle. Dean felt a smirk burn at his features, but he held it back, unsure of why it was even trying to surface. Sure, Cas _had _been giving him hassle, of sorts, just by _being. _Those crazy blue eyes, that messed up sex hair, his perfectly smooth chest, which he'd decided to have on show a couple of mornings ago, turning up on Dean's doorstep with his shirt completely unbuttoned, dress pants done up, but the belt still hanging loose, and Dean had found himself staring, slack jawed at the man in front of him, unable to process the simple request of _"Do you have any milk, Dean? I have none for my porridge." _And Cas had looked up at Dean, with puppy dog eyes, oblivious to the absolutely frantic play of emotions and feelings and _desires _that Dean had been battling with at that very moment, as his mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water. After what had felt like an eternity, Dean finally managed to beckon Castiel in, and he'd jogged in to the kitchen and grabbed one of his two bottles of milk and handed it to Cas, offering him a dumbfounded smile, still utterly unable to form words. Castiel had smiled, actually _smiled, _and laid his hand on Dean's hand, which had caught on to the door frame to keep himself steady. "Thanks, Dean." He had waited a moment longer, and Dean had a crazy idea that maybe Cas was thinking the same as Dean, maybe he was fighting back primal urges to pounce on him also, and Cas bit his bottom lip, and he'd leaned back against the door frame, maybe intentionally, maybe not, but he had allowed his hair to brush past Dean's fingers. "_I'll see you Friday_." Dean had again managed something resembling a smile and a nod, then Castiel had been gone, no longer a tempted four or five inches from Dean's face, and he'd been running across the road, shouting back that he was going to be late for work.

Dean couldn't deny that he had enjoyed the brief moment that him and Castiel had been so close. Castiel with his shirt open, and his tie just hanging down from either side of the collar, Dean couldn't help wondering exactly who the _fuck _turns up on the doorstep of another guy in the mid morning rush attire, without having even buttoned up, unless they were either a raving lunatic, or he was _trying _to turn Dean on.

Dean's mind reverted to the moment that Castiel's cat like stretching in his living room a few nights before had resulted in the hem of his shirt untucking, and Dean smiled. Goddam. Cas could make him smile just by existing. Fuck. _Fuck. _Dean had a strange sense of deja vu.

"Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "Don't really know the guy; he jumped started my car a couple of weeks back, that's it." He had no idea why he was lying, and he sure felt guilty, but he excused himself on the grounds that he had only really spent anything resembling an extended amount of time with Castiel that once, and he really had consumed a bit too much alcohol to make a clear judgement about anything. _Mid life crisis. _Dean nodded again, seemingly to himself. _At 26. Great. _"I'm sure he's a great-" _Lay _"Guy..." Dean blinked in shock at the thought, and prayed to the Almighty – if there was one – that he hadn't let that one slip. He really needed to get laid, Dean decided. That's all it was. Castiel was just a good looking guy, a good looking guy who seemed to have a particular interest in Dean, and Dean's recent dry spell, the one he'd been having since it happened, was finally wearing him thin. He just needed a nice, meaningless fuck, and he'd be fine, back to normal, and he could continue on a more platonic relationship with Castiel, without feeling like he just wanted to tear off his clothes and... Dean closed his eyes in defeat. He'd need a lot of sex.

_**A nice intro for you ^-^ Hope you're enjoying it so far! About to lose the laptop, so might manage one more chapter, at a PUSH two, then it'll be a while before I can update again ]=**_

_**Any reviews/suggestions etcetera appreciated ^-^ I do have a strange surprise coming your way. I have a rough idea of where this is going, but not exactly sure how to wrap it up! Love [=**_

_**~Lintu x x**_


	5. Chapter 5

That Friday, when it finally decided to dawn, dragged on for longer than Dean had remembered any day to drag on in his entire history of forever. He barely managed to eat for the crocodiles of nervousness and anticipation thrashing around in his tummy. He promised himself he'd get through tonight, then he'd go out of his way to arrange a boys weekend – had Kris already had his Bachelor Party? - maybe he'd even go out with Cas. A good looker like Cas would surely pick up some chicks? Maybe Dean would lose him in the crowd, just for a little bit. Dean had already cleaned the house, mown the lawn, and it was in the middle of pulling up weeds from the flower bed – Dean was sure he'd told Sam the day he caught him digging around in flower, was the day he had to get the shotgun - the offensive plant hanging limply from his hand, stopped on its journey to join the pile of murdered weeds, and Dean thought to himself Holy Fuck he was competition. Cas was _competition _to Dean and his insanely perfect looks. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he tossed the weed aside and continued to turn the soil, patting it down around the flowers and pulling out the weeds. Competition was one heck of a lot easier to deal with for Dean that some man crush. Dean had charisma. He could charm the pants off anyone. Hell, he could probably even charm the pants off Cas.

7 o clock finally came, Dean felt like a child waiting for Father Christmas to arrive, and when he did arrive – not a moment late – Castiel was wearing faded black jeans, an untucked blouse with three quarter length sleeves and "Slippers?" Dean stepped aside and let Castiel in.

"I didn't see the point in putting boots on to cross the road," Castiel explained, as if it were a no brainer. He indicated the bottle of wine and packets of popcorn in his hands.

Dean closed the door and gestured through the living room door. "Oh, kitchen, thanks Cas," He led the way to the kitchen, tapped the counters, then rummaged around for wine glasses. He turned to Castiel briefly. "Would you like a coffee to start with?"

Castiel placed the wine in the refrigerator, and he stated gently, "This one is better chilled," Then he turned to Dean. "I'm partial to a fancy red from time to time." A small smile tugged at his lips in amusement at Dean's clueless expression. "Coffee would be great."

Dean's insides were trembling. He was nervous. Castiel made him nervous, on edge. _Because of the whole competition thing, yeah. _Something about the way he held himself and the way he moved. Hell the way he looked at Dean made him feel as if he were about to spontaneously combust. Those freakin' eyes were so intense and so blue, and Heavenly. In his ridiculous school girl like state of mind, Dean was cursing his coffee machine for not working, he didn't even notice the other man crossing the room, but he was suddenly acutely aware of him standing behind him. Very close. Dean could feel Castiel's breath on the back of his neck, and he felt Castiel's chest press against his back, as he leaned forward, closing in on Dean.

Just as Dean was about to jump away and begin shouting abuse, a clicking sounds made him jump.

"Things usually work better when they're switched on," Castiel winked and patted Dean on the shoulder. _Get a grip, Dean. _He flashed an awkward smile at Castiel, then busied himself sorting out coffee mugs and collecting together various take away menus, and just _wishing _he hadn't worn such tight jeans.

They decided on a Chinese together and watched a rerun of an old baseball game to stare at.

Dean picked at the last few noodles in his takeaway box, and watched Castiel from the corner of his eye.

Castiel had stopped eating a few minutes earlier, and appeared to be taking a little too much interest in his nearly empty glass of wine. He sipped the wine, savored it, swallowed it, then let out a sigh. There was a tension in the air that Dean couldn't quite read as he watched Cas finished his wine then hold the empty glass in his lap.

"New start?" Castiel still didn't look away from the wine glass. "I mean, everything in the house is new. I guess-" He stopped, his eyes wide as he realized Dean had gone catatonic. "Dean?" He shook him gently, but Dean was rooted to his spot on the floor, cross legged, bolt upright, chop sticks frozen, mid dig in the noodles.

Finally – around about the time Cas was about to start dialing 911 – Dean seemed to come to again; he closed his eyes and swore.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel shifted away and ran his hand through his hair. "It's really none of my-"

Dean laid a hand on Castiel's knee, startling him out of speech.

"Cas, it's okay," Dean took a breath and braved returning that enamoring gaze he could _feel _burning in to the side of his head. "Yes. It's a new start."

Castiel knew there was more to it, as he gazed back in to Dean's eyes, but somehow, he understood Dean wasn't ready. Not yet.

"More wine?" Castiel offered tacitly, reaching for the half empty wine bottle.

Constantine provided entertainment whilst the two men slouched in to the couch snacking on popcorn and jelly beans, and making their way through a six pack Dean had had sat in his refrigerator for long enough.

Sam didn't need to know.

Wine always knocked Dean sideways, and he found himself stripped down to his tank top and a pair of jogging bottoms. He was again very aware of the fact his knee was touching Castiel's, and Castiel's hand, which was resting on his knee, was grazing gently against Dean's leg, and he was aware that Castiel – whether or not he hand noticed – was making no effort to move away from him. Dean sat deeper in to the sofa and allowed his eyes to scope the man next to him. His hair was flopping loosely over his forehead, which was creased with concentration, and those eyes were fixated on the enormous screen on the wall opposite. There were beads of sweat forming on his brow, and Dean felt his stomach flutter as Cas ran his fingers through his ruffled hair, then scratched his collar bone. Dean's eyes followed his movements, linger for a moment then gravitate downwards. At some point, Cas had undone several buttons on his shirt, and a tempting portion of Castiel's undeniably well toned body was just enough on show for Dean's imagination to threaten to run away with him. Before it had a chance, Dean looked away.

"So that's Gabriel?"

Dean looked at the screen. "Yeah,"

"The Arch Angel?"  
"Yeah."

"Huh," Cas cracked open another beer and took a swig, not noticing the peculiar look Dean was bestowing upon him, then he used the can to cool his chest down, and Dean turned back to the screen quickly.

Dean grabbed for the bottle beside him. It would either cure him or ruin him. Either way, he had to take his eyes off Cas before he noticed and started asking questions.

"He'svery... aes-aesthetically_pleasing_," Castiel drawled, the alcohol clearly affecting the part of his brain that controlled his tongue.

Dean chuckled. "Keanu? Sure. I'd do him."

Castiel turned to Dean, his eyes shimmering, a wicked smile on his lips. "I'm _hot, _Dean,"

_Like _fuck, _you are... No, Dean! _

Castiel jumped up and headed for the garden. "_Bringthatblackberryvodka, Dean!"_ He slurred upon his exit.

Dean smiled and, more than willingly, obliged.

About an hour later, they were still in the garden, Dean saw with his head in his arms, legs pulled up to his chest, and he swore he could feel Castiel's steely gaze boring holes in to the back of his head. Maybe it was the excessive booze, but Dean could swear Castiel had spent quite some time with those eyes on him. He didn't mind. He turned to Castiel, who had taken up a more comfortable position, laid back on the sloping lawn, his top half propped up by his left arm, facing Dean. He stared back at Dean, unblinking, something Dean couldn't quite calculate playing on his angelic features. Dean felt himself flush red as he realized the last – and _longest –_ fifteen seconds of his life had been spent gazing like a lovesick teenage girl in to Castiel's eyes. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with something, _anything _to say to break the silence. Anything to stop him from thinking how goddam _sexy _Cas was looking, draped across the grass, shirt halfway unbuttoned with just the slightest hint of a smile on his face. "I have to use the bathroom."

Dean paced the bathroom, hands clenched and pressed against his forehead. He tried to blame the alcohol. It _had _to be the alcohol. Dean was as straight as the day is long. His multiple one night stands and coinciding summer flings proved that. _Mid life crisis. _After what Dean had been through, he was entitled to one. And so what if that made him want to take a handful of that mussed black hair and have himself a taste of Cas? Castiel didn't appear to have made anything in the way of friends or even acquaintances in the town. No one so much as acknowledged him when he walked down the street. As far as Dean could tell, the only person he even knew around here was Dean himself, and if anything stupid happened, the only person he would be likely to tell would be Dean... Even if he did tell Kris and Carly, they'd laugh him off. Everyone would. So Dean could do _whatever _he wanted with Cas, and it's more than likely that no one would find out. Not that Dean was going to do anything about it. No way. He was going to go back downstairs and continue manly conversation about boobs and cars, just like they hadn't been all night. Sure, he'd sneak a look now and again. He'd reach across to grab the remote and _accidentally _brush his hand along Cas' leg, or grab a handful of Cas' hand in the bowl rather than the popcorn. And Dean felt more at ease after his self pep talk as the two men settled themselves back in to the couch to watch the end of a late night rerun of Oprah, a beer each and a bowl of popcorn between them. Dean would be fine, and before he knew it, he'd've forgotten about his silly crush – _not a crush, Dean – _and he'd be back to his normal, straight, girl loving self. Dean flashed his million dollar smile at Castiel as he flicked through the channels. He pretended not to notice Castiel sliding his leg up on to the couch and absently running his hand up and down his thigh. Nor notice him running his hand through his hair. Nor tucking his thumb in to the top of his jeans as he swigged his beer, stopping to run his tongue round the lip of the bottle before setting it down again. Okay, this was going to be harder than he thought. And at the risk of his new friend thinking he was a crazed alcoholic, Dean reached for the whiskey.

"She's... She's hot." Dean slurred. Much more at ease. It hadn't taken him long to dull back down the blood levels in his alcohol stream. Dean glanced at Castiel, whose eyes were darkened from sharing in a glass of whiskey with Dean.

Dean turned back to the screen, too drunk to care if Cas minded being used as a pillow. He jumped as he felt fingers brush against his neck, then close on his shoulder.

"Sorry Dean," Castiel's honey-gravel voice sent goose pimples down the length of Dean's body, and he turned to see Castiel's eyes fixed on his own. Dean got the feeling that Castiel wasn't apologizing for startling him. His eyes were almost desperate. "I should go,"

Dean's heart sank. "You don't have to." _Smooth, Dean. _

"It's late," Castiel cast his eyes to the clock, and Dean mirrored the motion.

"Technically it's early," Dean corrected with a wilting smile.

Castiel smiled stiffly then wriggled out from under Dean. Dean elegantly fell off the couch, dragged himself to his feet then chased Castiel to where he was fumbling with the front door. Dean stood, dumbfounded and watched until Castiel gave up and turned to Dean, red faced and defeated. "I can't open the door, Dean,"

"I don't want you to go." Dean gushed. _Fuck._

Castiel blinked, then tilted his head in confusion. "I don't understand, Dean?"

_Make or break. _Dean leaned to the door and moved Castiel's hand off the door latch. Their eyes met and Dean dared to step closed. "Please?"

Castiel's hand was trembling in Dean's, but he just held it tighter and pressed it up against his own chest. _What the actual fuck, Dean? What are you doing? Let him go, open the door, and let the poor bastard go and never bother him again. _Before _you royally fuck things up. _But Dean's eyes were on Cas' lips. Castiel was breathing heavily, and his lips were parted, surely _inviting _Dean. _No, Dean! _But it was too late. Dean pressed his lips against Castiel's, and his eyes squeezed shut so as to shut out any unwanted reactions from the man he had pinned to his own front door. His free hand took a handful of Castiel's shirt, and he stopped himself short of tearing it off. Then he froze, and he pulled back. Panic struck him. "Cas, I-" _I, what? Come on, Dean? Oh God. Oh Mother of God, Holy crap, what the megladon of an actual _fuck _did I just do?_

"Dean-" Castiel's electric blue eyes were wide, and his body rigid. Then he pulled Dean back to him, crashing their lips together. He released his hand from Dean's and grasped the waistband of Dean's sweat pants, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Dean was the first to moan, and Castiel pushed his pelvis in to Dean's as he pulled back for a gulp of air, but Cas grabbed a handful of Dean's hair and roughly pulled him back in to the kiss. Their teeth knocked, and Dean tickled Cas' lips with his tongue, gently, pleading access. He was met with a chuckle – a chuckle? - and teeth gently scraping his tongue, then nipping his bottom lip. Castiel pushed Dean away playfully, biting on his own bottom lip tantalizingly, enjoying a moment of torture on Dean's behalf. Dean was more than willing to re enter the kiss, this time with more vigour and determination. He shoved a hand up Castiel's top and toyed with a hardened nipple, then smiled in to the kiss as Cas shied away from his hand trailing down his front to the top of his jeans. Fuck Dean wanted what he could feel pressing against his thigh, but what the _fuck?_ He chewed on Cas' bottom lip, tickled Cas' lips with his tongue, then both men moaned as their tongues collided. Dean slammed his body in to Castiel, fuck he wanted him, he wanted every inch of their bodies touching, and Dean pulled away in shock as he felt a definite firm squeeze on his crotch.

Panting heavily, Castiel was grinning as he opened the front door with ease, never moving his eyes from Dean's, then he turned and pegged it across the road back to his own house. _Sonofabitch. _Dean closed the front door and leaned his head against it, trying to figure out what the _fuck _had just happened.


	6. Chapter 6

"Dean? It's Ellen," Dean rubbed at his eyes tiredly as he listened to the message. "Jo and I are back, and we're gonna open up again tomorrow if you can make it? Give me a call when you get this."

Dean opted for a fry up and the strongest coffee he could managed to swallow without choking on it. Painkillers, food, shower, clean up, then he'd ring Ellen back.

The fry up was a pitiful excuse; Dean really needed groceries, but he very much doubted he was legal to drive.

How Dean managed to last the day without calling for Hughie down the porcelain telephone, he didn't know. Perhaps the regular aspirin and black coffee did the trick. Even that night, opting for orange marmalade and toast for a light dinner, Dean could feel his stomach churning, and he remembered exactly why he didn't drink wine. He needed some fresh air.

The hood of his Impala made as comfortable a seat as any to Dean in his delicate state. He was laying with his back up against the wind shield, one knee bent. His eyes betrayed him and slid over to the house across the road. As always, the windows were all blacked out with curtains and blinds, but something seemed different about the place. Other than the fact the black Merc wasn't in the driveway. Dean frowned. Not that it was _any_ of his business, but what on Earth could Castiel be doing out at something past midnight? Dean stared a bit longer, maybe expecting the answer to reveal itself on the side of Castiel's house, then he gave up and closed his eyes.

"Dean," Ellen threw a cloth and a spray bottle at Dean. "Quick go around please? While it's quiet,"

Dean nodded. "Sure, Ellen," He hesitated. "Jo all right? I haven't seen her since you guys got back,"

"She's fine, Dean," Ellen made no eye contact with Dean. She gestured vaguely. "Tables, please,"

Dean left with a nod and started cleaning the tables down and collecting together the empty glasses on the bar. He glanced up as he saw movement on the edge of his periphery. He tipped a nod and a small smile in the direction of Ash; Dean never could quite figure out exactly what his purpose in life and in The Roadhouse was, but people would approach him, and they'd hold a hushed conversation, then Ash would glance around looking shifty, and then he'd lead the people through to the back and in to his permanently locked room. Dean figured it must be that Ash was soliciting either drugs or _himself,_ and to be honest, the thought of either made him uncomfortable, but for some reason, he didn't put it past Ash to do either, or even both. Dean shook of the thought as he spotted a familiar mop of red hair. The girl he had seen one night sporting a large bruise on her face. With her eyes on the floor, she returned to her seat, where a large, burly man handed her a glass of what looked suspiciously like whiskey. There was a wordless exchange of looks, accentuated by the slightest of nods by both parties before the man walked away and left her alone again.

Dean bided his time, stopping for a quick chat with Ash about the latest scores and how _damn fine _the girl at the bar is – in all honesty, Dean hadn't noticed, but he spared her a quick glance if only to confirm that by gum she _was _a little foxy – whilst Dean wiped down the table Ash had taken up residence at deliberately slowly, moving each place mat and setting them back down in perfect symmetry in each corner of the square table. He patted Ash on the shoulder, then moved on to the table the girl was at. He motioned with the cloth and the bottle. "Is it okay if I...?"

The girl nodded her head and moved her drink and the place mat, without so much as lifting her head.

Dean wiped the table down quickly then took the seat next to the girl. "So, uh," He lowered his voice and pointed at the glass of whiskey. "Should you really be drinking that?"

At last, the girl's dark eyes locked with Dean's, and she held him with a withering glare. "I'm 23," Her voice was smooth, but her tone was cold.

Dean winced, then grinned sheepishly. "You look terrific for your age," Awkward pause. _Nice one, Dean._ "Can I get you another? On the house,"

She looked away as if weighing up the pros and cons of accepting a free drink from a total stranger, then she looked back and finally cracked a smile.

Dean let out his breath and stuck his hand out. "I'm Dean,"

"Anna,"

They talked for a few minutes, Dean only moving begrudgingly after mouthed threats from Ellen about losing his ball if he didn't get back to work – with most people he would have taken it with a pinch of salt, but with Ellen, he didn't dare push her boundaries – then he fetched Anna the promised drink and left her with a wink accompanied by, "I get off at eleven,"

Dean didn't finish until about ten past eleven, but it was early by Roadhouse standards anyway, but Ellen said she was still feeling tired from the long journey and she wanted to get to bed at a decent time. Dean felt a burning sense of panic as he scanned the empty bar, but he eventually resigned himself to the fact that Anna was not the kind to keep waiting, and he scuffed out to his car. She had appeared out of discernibly thin air and pressed herself against him as he'd stood next to his car. The had ended up making out in the back seat of the Impala after Anna had practically leapt on him when he was mid speech apologizing for being late.

Dean couldn't shower enough. He just stood, staring at the wall, trying to untie the knot of guilt that was weighing down his stomach. Another shower, and he collapsed on top of his bed wearing just his boxers. Dean had _never _ back out on sex before. Not ever. He flushed red at the thought as he remembered Anna's face, the shock, the _embarrassment. _Dean stuttering, making excuses, anything but saying 'I just don't wanna...' _Jesusfuck. _Dean Winchester. Turning down sex. It had been a week since he had seen Castiel, and he'd managed to pep talk himself – with the assistance of far too much Jim – into believing that it was just a mistake with Cas. Just a heat-of-the-moment-I'm-lonely-please-don't-leave-me thing, fueled by rather a lot of alcohol, and it didn't _mean _anything. Cas was just a good looking guy with a strangely magnetic personality, probably the most incredible eyes he had ever encountered and a head of hair that could lead any mind to think about how perfect it would be to hold on to whilst...

Something had been muttered about the stars as Dean twirled Anna's hair around his fingers, then their lips were touching, hands running wild, the door opened, they crashed out in the back seat. Hair being grasped, pelvis' being pushed together, lips being nibbled, tongues sweeping past each other, gasping for air, groaning in ecstasy, tops being tugged at, and _"Cas."_ Dean grinned at the disheveled man below him.

_Fuck. _Dean awoke, dripping with sweat, and with premature Morning Glory. He hadn't had he? Please, if there was a God, let him know he hadn't moaned Cas' name in to Anna's ear. After a few moments, Dean decided to take a cold shower, and ignoring the urge to _relieve _himself, because he was not, _not _going to jerk himself off over some guy.

Dean opened his phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hey Sammy,"

His brother sounded cheery with his reply, like an excited teenager about the girl he'd been seeing for over a year now, and they had finally become _official _and had moved in to an apartment together, not far from the college Jess was attending, and only a few blocks from where Sam was working, and they were sharing with a self confessed 'Trickster' Gabriel, who annoyed the crap outta both of them, and he ate way too much in the way of sweet things, but he was one Hellofacook, and if you needed a hangover cure, Gabe was the guy to go to. It wasn't all bad though, because the guy has a big family, and he seems to be going away to help out a brother or a sister or a cousin every couple of weeks anyway.

"So, Jessica, huh?" Dean chuckled. He remembered Sam mentioning her a few times, but he hadn't realized they were a _thing._

"_Jess, yeah_," He heard Sam tapping a pen on his desk on the other end of the line, and fought back the urge to snap at him about it. "What about you, Dean?"

Dean rubbed his eyes cringing; _just _the question he didn't want his brother to ask him. "Not for me, Sammy," He hoped his brother couldn't tell he was lying through the phone, but Dean could feel Sam pulling a bitchface in reply to this statement, which was accompanied by a tired sigh.

"_Dean_..."

"Sam. Just don't, okay?"

Sigh. Long pause.

"So, when you coming to see me, baby brother?"

"_Actually, that's why I called you. I have some time off, and I thought I'd pay you a visit. Maybe drop in on Bobby? And don't call me that_,"

"How is Bobby?"

"_I haven't spoken to him in a while_,"

"Me neither to be honest."

"_Should do_."

"Me too." Dean peeked out at the ominous house and empty driveway across the road from him. Where the fuck was Cas? Why hadn't he heard from or seen him since...

"_Dean_?" Concern laced his younger brother's voice, but Dean couldn't bring himself to reply.

_Goddam, I hope he's not fled because of me, because of what happened the other night? _What if he had read too much in to Castiel, the way he acted around Dean, maybe he was just some kind of chilled out hippie who just acted camp because that's the way he was? What if he was just being friendly and somewhere between the alcohol and the snuggling – although it could barely be called that – Dean had gotten the wrong end of the stick and just fucked up the chance of a good friendship with a decent guy, the only guy in this apple-pie neighborhood Dean had actually felt comfortable and _himself_ around, all because of too much booze, post traumatic stress and a dry spell that had lasted longer than Dean could remember.

"_Dean!_"

"Sorry. What?"

"_Maybe I could see if Bobby wanted to come along? I'm sure he could close up shop for a few days_,"

"That sounds great, Sammy. I have a wedding this Saturday, but I doubt I'll be back too late, so..."

"_Well I have a week anyway._"

"Yeah," Dean drew the curtains. What the eye doesn't see the heart can't miss and all that. "Anyway, I have work in an hour."

"Sure, sure. I'll talk to you Friday, man."

"Sure, _Bitch,"_

"Screw you, _jerk_," And the line went dead.

_**Sorry it's a short one; just filling in the gaps! I've actually hand written this, so I am typing it up and posting it as fast as I can before I lose the computer again! ]= **_


	7. Chapter 7

That hammering on the door was the last thing Dean needed. It pretty much harmonized with the rhythm of the pounding in his head as he stumbled to the door. _Til Death do us part._ Dean had that nagging feeling of being annoyed, but the jumble that was his brain could barely function to unlock and open the door, let alone discern exactly what it was that had him so wound up tight, that he was pretty sure he could remember emptying the bottle of Jack at Kris and Carly's wedding the night before. He could remember drinking to dull the pain of the memories the wedding had brought back to him. _Til Death do us part. Sure. Be it 60 years or 60 months. _

Sam Winchester was stood at the door, his hand balled in to a tight fist still hovering in mid air, ready to thunder on the door again. Sam looked at Dean, first class bitchface in place already as he glowered down at his older brother.

Dean held up his hands in defeat, kicking the door open wide enough for Sam and his enormous suitcase to fit in. Sam shot Dean a look that said 'We are going to talk about this later, like it or not.' Then he hauled his suitcase in to the house and headed up the stairs, ignoring his brother's stupid comments about sneaking Jess along in the suitcase with him.

"Dean, come and help an old man, would ya?" Bobby waved an arm from where he stood next to Sam's Toyota Prius. _Prius, Sam? Really? _Dean scoffed then padded out to the car and heaved a deep breath as he grabbed the tattered suitcase from Bobby and put it over his shoulder. His eyes caught sight of movement and snapped to an upstairs window in Castiel's house. He froze on the spot.

"Dean?" Bobby eyed Dean suspiciously and glanced at the house across the road. "You seen a ghost, boy?"

"Probably just Beatrice." Dean slowly returned his focus back to Bobby, who was watching him with trepidation, looking ready to spring in to attack or vamoose with a moments' notice.

"The cat," Dean spluttered. "He-he has a cat. Her name is-"

"Beatrice, yeah," Bobby was still watching Dean carefully. "What's the matter with you anyways, Dean? You look like a sack of crap,"

"Thanks Bobby," Dean shot back, avoiding answering the question directly. He would have enough of a row off Sam later, without his second-in-command-to-his-Dad laying in to him as well. Dean flapped a hand at Bobby dismissively and vanished in to the house and upstairs, grunting about putting the suitcase in Bobby's bedroom for now, and he could sort it out later. Dean deposited the suitcase in the room that would be serving as Bobby's bedroom for the next few nights, and he paused briefly to fret about whether or not Bobby and Sam would notice that both rooms were exact replicas of one another, perhaps to an obsessive degree, but before he had a chance to descend in to a panic induced spree of rearranging the rooms, he went back downstairs to find Bobby rummaging around in the kitchen.

"Got anything decent to drink here, boy?" Bobby grumbled without looking up. "All I can find is this damn poof juice," He tossed an unopened carton of iced tea at Dean, then returned to rummaging.

Dean caught his younger brother glaring at him with his eyebrows missing somewhere up in his hairline, daring him to say yes, he did have some half decent Scotch hidden away that Bobby was more than welcome to. "Sorry, Bobby. I'm trying to stay clean," His eyes darted guiltily to Sam, hoping beyond hope that Sam wouldn't go hunting for evidence to pointing to the contrary before Dean had a chance to squirrel it away. He was going to have enough of an earful about being hungover today, but Dean wouldn't be able to deal with the abuse his brother would bestow upon him if he found his liquor collection.

Sam held his dubiously for another few moments, before eventually smiling and suggesting coffee.

Bobby agreed with an unimpressed grunt, then opted to sit on the decking out back and sulk.

Dean set about making coffee and pretending he couldn't feel the scrutinizing glower his brother was sending his way. "So," Dean grinned at Sam. "How's Jessica?"

Sam allowed a pause before he replied. "_Jess _is fine. She's staying with her parents in Jersey,"

Dean nodded. "Nice,"

Sam didn't reply for a while. "You gonna share?"

Dean tensed, but continued pouring the coffees. "I have nothing to share with you, Sam,"

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby cut him off shouting about the draconian service he was receiving in this place.

Dean seized the opportunity and pushed past his bigger-but-younger little brother with the coffee. "It's coming now, Ma'am!"

Dean leaned against the bar, towel thrown over his shoulder, trying to look casual as he sneaked looks over at Anna. She was sat on her own as always, scribbling away furiously in what looked to be a diary. Dean had never kept a diary per se, but he was pretty sure it wasn't the type of thing one would normally be filling out in a bar full of ruffians. Ash sat down next to Anna and they struck up some sort of conversation, and Dean pondered on pretending to clean tables down near them so he could eavesdrop.

"Hey, Dean,"

Dean turned to Jo, shocked to see a large bruise on her delicate chin and a split lip.

"Jo?" His eyes were fixed on her injury, but any thoughts of concern, or any thoughts at all for that matter, melted away as she hooked her fingers on to his shirt and pulled herself up on to her tip toes and pecked a gentle kiss on his lips.

Jo flashed her dazzling smile and blushed slightly. "I missed you," She sounded as surprised as Dean felt.

"You too," He smiled, "What-" He started as he was cut off by a cold, angry voice.

"Another round for me and her, Dean." Ash slammed the glasses down on the bar and fixed Dean with a knowing glare. "And you'd better put hers on your tab." Dean felt his mouth dry up, and he nodded mutely as he served up the drinks. "You and me," Ash tapped the bar, "after your shift. We're gonna have words."

Dean nodded again, nausea wrapping its burning hands around his guts. What had he done? His memory from the previous weekend had been fuzzy at best; Dean knew Anna had given him a lift home, and he vaguely remembered rambling on about _something._ As hard as he scratched at the edge of the memory, he couldn't get to it. It plagued him for the rest of his shift, what he might have said, or worse still _done_ to Anna to upset her. He was pretty sure he'd fallen out of the car, thanked her, then dragged himself on all fours in to his house. The end of the shift finally came, and as Dean busied himself cleaning around the bar, Ellen and Jo long since pushed off up to bed, Ash leaned on the bar above Dean and peered down at him. "Who's Lisa, Dean?"

Dean's entire body froze up, his throat felt as if it were closing, and he began gasping for breath as his heart hammered in his chest, threatening to break ribs. Dean was distantly aware of Ash rabbiting on about Anna feeling like Dean had used her in a brief moment of, I don't know, some kind of act of revenge? Had he found this Lisa in bed with someone else? Is that who Ben was?

"Lisa's dead," Dean choked out.

Ash stopped his verbal attack immediately, stunned in to silence.

"She was my late wife." Dean's voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "Ben was her son. My step son," He rasped. "They were both killed last summer in an accident,"

The silence fell upon them like a ton of bricks, and the air was heavy with the guilt of Ash's rant and the blunt honesty of Dean's statement.

"Shit," Ash finally found his voice. "Shit, Dean, man, I'm sorry. I didn't know, I..."

Dean shook his head. "It's all right," He forced a half smile. "You didn't know." Another heavy silence befell them, and Dean threw down the towel and left without another word.

Dean spent a few minutes trying to regain composure after dry retching, and he leaned against his car, panting. That was the first time he had said it out loud. The words kept reverberating in his head as he drove him. _Lisa and Ben are dead. _And there it was. Acceptance. _Fuck it. _Dean thought to himself as he turned in to his street, _Fuck Sam, I need a drink._

Dean slammed the brakes on and contemplated. He didn't know _whythefuck, _but he turned left and parked up. He didn't get out of the car for a few minutes, he simple sat, staring out the wind shield, hands clamped around the steering wheel, knuckles white. Finally, he moved a trembling hand to the car door and let himself out. He became aware of a burning sensation across the knuckles of his right hand as he rapped on the heavy wooden door. Barely 30 seconds passed before the door was swung open.

"Dean?" Castiel's eyes were wide and, after a brief moment, he looked away from Dean, his face flushing bright red as he apologized for his attire. It was only then that Dean realized Castiel was wearing Looney Tunes pajama bottoms, and a worn dressing gown which was barely concealing his body – Cas quickly rectified that and closed his dressing gown – and the slippers he had worn to Dean's house a fortnight previously.

Dean looked at Cas, eye brimming with tears, and he whispered, "I'm a widow at 27, Cas,"

Without a word, Castiel opened the door and ushered Dean inside, flicking the end of his roll up out on to his drive.

Ten minutes later, Dean was sat on Castiel's couch-bed, which Castiel had again blushed and apologized profusely for, wrapped around an Irish coffee. Technically, it was a normal coffee with a decent dash of Irish Cream Liquor in it, but Dean appreciated it all the same.

Castiel was perched precariously on the arm of the couch, apparently expertly trained in exactly how to deal with a hysterical mid twenties man suffering a post traumatic breakdown. Castiel's eyes moved down to Dean's bloodied knuckles. "What happened to your hand, Dean?"

Dean sighed. "I had a fight with a tree on my way home,"

Castiel breezed out of the room for a few moments, then returned equipped with salt water and bandages and he tended to Dean's hand as Dean watched him quietly.

The living room only had two small wall mounted lights, and they emitted a soft glow that illuminated Castiel's face in an undeniably attractive way. "I didn't know you smoke?" Dean piped up casually, trying to distract himself from the urge to lean in to Cas and kiss him. Again. Holy fuck. Dean really hoped Cas didn't remember. He was guessing by the way Cas seemed totally at ease with him, and not at all bothered by the fact that Dean hadn't taken his eyes off him since he'd hunkered down to clean and bandage his hand, that he was in the all clear.

"I know you don't smoke, so I don't like to do so in your presence," Cas offered softly.

Dean blinked in response.

"Would you like to try some cherry brandy?" Castiel's eyes twinkled, and he appeared totally unaware that he was resting his hand on Dean's knees.

Dean wasn't unaware. He smiled stiffly. "Sounds great,"

Castiel was already leaving the room swiftly, dressing gown flowing out behind him like some kind of super hero's cape. Dean smiled to himself as Castiel shouted through that he didn't even know if it was drinkable; he had yet to try it.

"Home brew," Castiel explained as he sauntered back in to the room, bottle and glasses in hands, and as he leaned down to place everything on the table, and his dressing gown loosened on his front, and Dean could quiet easily see all the way to the top of his pajama bottoms, Dean couldn't deny the fact that he was tempted. At least just a little.

If that drink wasn't one of the best things Dean had ever tasted, then damn.

A good dozen glasses each and Cas and Dean had slumped back in to the sofa-come-bed, and found themselves shoulder to shoulder, laughing about story involving Sam and his first girlfriend and exactly what _not _to tell her.

"You had to be there," Dean finished off, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Is that who I saw arrive at yours the other day?" There was a curious edge to his tone.

"Yeah, my brother Sammy. And our Uncle Bobby," Dean leaned over Cas and refilled his glass. "God, this is _so good_."

"Please," Cas returned, and in one movement he was laying across the back of the bed, behind Dean, and he grabbed the remote control and changed the channel. "Just call me Cas,"

Dean's jaw dropped slightly at his host's manner, but couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. Cas seemed comfortable in Dean's company, and Dean felt totally at ease with Cas. He jokingly laid back against Castiel, sighing loudly. "Shouldn't we change the channel? There must be something decent on surely? Anything has to be better than Movies4Men, Cas," Dean swiped the remote from Castiel's hand and flicked through the channels. "I've just thought, I came straight from work. I probably _smell,_" He flapped his arms, to check, but nothing too untoward assaulted his nostrils.

"You smell fine to me," Cas murmured so quietly, Dean wasn't sure if he was meant to hear, so he continued channel surfing, stopping eventually on something that vaguely resembled comedy. As Dean sipped his drink, he became aware of a warm sensation on his lower back. _What the_... Was Cas tickling his back? Regardless, it felt good, and Dean relaxed in to it, his eyes closing despite himself. He fought back the urge to moan in satisfaction as Castiel's hands moved up to the small of his back, then to his hip. _Fuck, fuck no, not now. _But to Dean's horror, he glanced own to see a very obvious outline forming in his jeans. Instinctively, he laid an arm across his lap to cover it, then took a breath and turned to Castiel to make his excuses and leave, but his words dissolved as his eyes met with Castiel's.

Cas was propped up on one elbow, his eyes on Dean's, and his free hand continued to trace patterns in to Dean's back, his hair was extra ruffled and his dressing gown had slipped open again and was exposing a bit of chest and tummy and fuck if that didn't appeal to Dean.

All of a sudden, Cas grabbed the back of Dean's jeans and his eyes dropped to Dean's lips. He pulled gently on Dean's jeans, lips parting slightly, and for what it was worth, and inexplicably to Dean himself, Castiel Novak, laying on that couch, his hands grasping Dean's waistband and looking for all the world like the sexiest damn thing Dean had ever seen. He had no idea why he was leaning closer to Cas. His attempt at giving Cas an awkward-but-friendly pat on the arm before getting up and running back to his house as fast as his legs would allow, had turned in to a firm grip on the other man's dressing gown. He was trying to leave. He really was. And it's the thought that counts, isn't it?

"I'm always here for you, Dean," Castiel murmured, his voice impossibly smooth yet rough.

And that was it. Dean's lips touched Castiel's lightly, and he pulled Cas round so they were both laying the same way. Dean grabbed handfuls of Cas' hair, and they kissed, tongues moving together, hands grabbing at tops, and Dean could feel himself hardening as Cas pulled their bodies together, and he felt Cas' erection against his thigh and the mere thought of what was happening nearly sent Dean over the edge. Both men parted for a moment, hands lingering in each other's hair, and they just stared, lips touching now and again, then Dean pushed his hand inside Castiel's dressing gown and allowed his fingers to caress the warm, smooth planes of Cas' body, and he shuddered as Cas whispered his name, and pulled his leg up in between Dean's, and they kissed again, deeper than before, and that's how the spent the night., just holding on, legs wound together, hands interlaced. Dean buried his face in to Castiel's neck, and he lost himself in Castiel's scent. This was the closest to Heaven that he would ever be again.

_**Not sure if I can squeeze any more updates in to the short amount of time I have left with the laptop ]= I will try my best! Also, does anyone know how to find out how many views a story has had, because I'm too dippy to figure it out! ^-^ Thank you all for the Favorites and Alerts and the bane of the world for your reviews =D They make my world go round 3 I'm glad people are enjoying my work as much as I am =D**_

_**~Lintu x x**_


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was glad of work that evening; Sam had been pestering him all day about coming in at silly o clock, trying to drag gory details out of him about where he'd buried the body. Dean's sense of humor had up and left very early on, and they had ended up having a brother style bitch fight, which Bobby had split up by yelling at them to start acting their age and not their shoe size.

The shift passed easily, with a steady stream of business keeping Dean on his toes, but not flat out; Jo was working the bar with him, and they'd traded stories about their past. Jo was very easy for Dean to like, but there was something about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on, something off. He knew she had lost her Father when she was young, but she never told him how – not that Dean wanted details, but he thought it a bit odd that she'd seemed to stop, mid sentence. All her got was that her father was out hunting and _something _had gone wrong. It wasn't his place to press the issue, but it didn't stop him wondering. He was glad of it, in a way, because it kept his mind off Castiel. Those eyes. Those lips. Cas biting his lip as his eyes burned in to Dean's, hands clutching at the front to Dean's shirt. Enticing him. _No._ Dean thought to himself resolutely. He was not going to let this happen. He was going to cut this whole thing off with Castiel before it got out of hand. He'd enjoy the rest of his time with Sam and Bobby, then he'd deal with the Cas situation. He wouldn't let himself get dragged back down in to a spiral like that again. He knew he was better than that.

Dean had the following night off, so he called in a take away and invited his newly wed neighbors round to join them.

There was general chit chat, mainly about the wedding, the assorted jobs and sports whilst the TV droned on in the background with no one paying a great deal of attention to it.

Carly was wearing a tight red top, showing off her bump proudly, and it worried Dean how easily Sam conversed with her about the whole pregnancy and having a baby subject. He set aside a mental note to have words with him about it later.

Kris offered around beers and even Sam took the stick out of his ass and accepted. Carly had brought her own bottle of _something _with her, _something _that looked suspiciously much like wine, and Dean had asked her casually about it; not that it was any of his business, but she had adhered to every rule of pregnancy so far, so he couldn't understand why she would change her ways now.

"No! Gosh, no!" Carly handed the bottle to him. "Alcohol free. The new guy from across the road gave it to me at the wedding."

Dean perked up at this, and he felt his heart skip a few beats. "Cas was there?"

Carly picked away at the last of her food as she spoke, looking up every couple of seconds as if to check she still had Dean's attention. "He only dropped by quickly to drop this and a card off to us and say congratulations," Her face lit up at the thought of her wedding day, and she snuggled her husband adoringly. "Was kind of him."

Kris nodded mutely in agreement. "He's a friend of yours isn't he, Dean? Sure I saw him at your door the other morning?"

Carly looked up at Dean, eyes locking with his briefly before Dean developed a fascination with his empty take away box. He knew his cheeks were roughly the same color as Carly's top as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, he helped me out when my car broke down a few weeks back." Not another word. The silence that descended on the room was painful, and Dean cleared his throat loudly. "Who's for ice cream?" He croaked.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, most of the conversation revolving around Carly and the strange alien like movements visible through her top. Sam was fascinated, and jumped at the opportunity of feeling the baby kick, but Dean and Bobby kept a respectable distance. _Definitely needs a pep talk. _

Kris and Carly finally peeled themselves off the sofa and bid their goodbyes at some when after 2. Bobby wasn't far behind, then Sam went up after he and Dean washed up. There had been an uneasy silence between them, but Dean was too tired to care.

Dean flopped down on to the couch and enjoyed some peace and quiet for a while, and he considered sneaking over to see Cas, but then he remembered he wasn't a fifteen year old girl, so he headed up to bed. He lay for some time, thinking. Thinking about Cas. About his eyes. About his lips. His stubble. His body. And his fucking _hair._ Dean could remember how it felt in his hands. He imagined Cas straddling his laps, a youthful smile creasing the corners of his eyes _inthatCasway_, as he chewed on his lip _inthatCasway_, and he imagined Cas running his fingers over his body, slipping under his waistband, then his other hand coming out of nowhere and _squeezing._

Dean woke with a start, panting and hard. "Fuck," This was going to be a _lot _harder than he thought.

Another week passed and Dean didn't see hide nor hair of Castiel. He was away again. Dean was sat on his front lawn, almost empty glass of Jack dangling from his hand, glowering over at Castiel's empty driveway. He couldn't fathom why, but he was pissed at Castiel for not being there. He'd grown fond of Cas. Obsessed with, addicted to he'd refuse to admit, but he was happy to say _fond._ Sure, they'd only known each other a few weeks – Castiel had only been living there two or three months or so – but Dean found he could be himself around Cas; he was the only person he didn't feel the need to put on an act around. He'd practically had a breakdown on the man's doorstep a week ago, and Dean wasn't the type to show his feelings, not even around his own brother. Dean couldn't stop himself from thinking that Cas was just aiming to get in to his pants, then he'd fuck him over literally and figuratively. He thought back to the other night, tried to remember Cas forcing himself on Dean, pushing for anything, but he _hadn't. _In fact, Dean had kissed him. He had made the first move, and Cas had simply reciprocated, and he had been more than accepting just holding Dean. Dean wanted something to be wrong with Cas, but he couldn't find it. Other than the fact he was a guy, but Dean knew that alone wasn't a good enough reason.

Dean had always been open minded enough to appreciate an attractive man – I mean who _wouldn't _do Christian Bale in Equilibrium? - but he'd never thought of himself as _gay. _He liked _chicks. _He liked _boobs. _He _loved _sex with women. Sure, he'd had the odd drunken kiss with another guy before – usually heavily under the influence of alcohol and the torturous pressure of his peers and damn if he did, because Dean had been Captain of the basketball team and the hockey team, and he could get away with anything. Hell he could even _enjoy _it and get a little carried away, like he did with that guy Luc - _Lucifer? _He seemed to remember people nicknaming him The Devil – when they'd kissed a bit longer than the ten seconds they'd been dared to kiss for, and Dean had found himself straddling Luc's lap, and his hand might just have been shoved up Luc's top. They had stopped there, but somehow, over the next few months, they had maintained some sort of fuck buddy relationship. Luc would come by Dean's dorm room when Dean's roomie, Chuck, was out seeing his girlfriend Becky – the very girl who had dared Dean and Luc to kiss in the first place in that stupid spin-the-bottle-dare-or-dare game, and had seemed simply _delighted_ with the result – which was most nights of most weeks. Luc would strut in to Dean's room and lock the door behind him, and he'd turned to Dean with a Devilish smile on his face – maybe that was where the nickname came from? - and sure, Dean would grumble and say he wasn't in the mood, he had work to do, just fuck off and leave him be. But Luc would just walk up behind Dean and slide his arms round his waist, and he'd nibble Dean's earlobe and down his neck, and his hands would slip lower and lower, "Come on, Dean," and he would _squeeze, _and Dean would gasp, but he wouldn't fucking moan, because he was too fucking manly for that. Luc would turn Dean to face him, that same wicked smile in place, "You know you wanna," Squeeze. Gasp. Shudder. Luc would bite Dean's lip and he'd push him down on his bed and climb on top. "You can't say no." He'd whisper in to Dean's ear. And they would fuck. But... That didn't make him gay though, did it? Christ, Dean had probably slept with more women than he'd had hot dinners. Of course, that was only until Lisa. They had met when they were 18, and of all the stupid things, Dean had managed to knock in to her in a convenience store and she had dropped the pregnancy test she'd had in her hand. Dean had by reflex reached down to retrieve them for her, muttering an apology, then frozen in momentary horror and pushed the packet in to her hands, pretending he hadn't realized what it was.

"I-I'm so sorry," Dean had repeated, star struck by the beautiful girl looking back at him, "I should have been looking where I was going."

"No, no," She replied, shoving the pregnancy test back on to the shelf and replacing it with a packet of tampons, and Dean felt his heart melt as she flashed her dazzling smile up at him. "Hey, don't I recognize you?"

Dean's breath caught in his throat as he was overcome with that horrible feeling that maybe this girl was one of the many he'd picked up in a bar, gone home with and left in the early hours, leaving a note with a fake number and false promises of seeing each other again. Okay, so maybe his whateverthefuckitwas with Luc had lasted a little longer than he would readily admit, and his womanizing was like a poor attempt of regaining some of his masculinity.

"You work at Singer's car place, don't you?"

Dean visibly slumped with relief. So he _hadn't_ screwed her then slithered off, so that pregnancy text _couldn't_ have had anything to do with him. A relieved grin spread across Dean's face, and he nodded. "Yeah. Mr. Singer is my Uncle," Technically, he wasn't Dean's Uncle, but Dean's Father and Bobby had been close for a lot of years, a long time before Dean had ever existed, and Dean and Sam had spent a lot of time at Bobby's whilst their Father way away 'on business'. Whatever that meant. Bobby had taken John and the boys in after their house in Lawrence had burned down, and their Mother was tragically killed. So Bobby more than deserved to be counted as family.

Apparently, Lisa's car had been making a great deal of noise, and she thought she had heard a kind of _clunk _and then a horrible scraping noise.

Dean hunkered down behind the car and chuckled quietly as he saw the source of the problem. "Yeah, the exhaust is hanging off." He smiled at Lisa. "If you can go without it over the weekend, and drop it off at Bobby's on Monday, I'll order the parts this afternoon, and I can have it ready for you on Monday night."

Lisa flashed that heart stopping smile again and leaned up and gave Dean a peck on the cheek. Dean knew, even then, that Lisa was The One. He was hooked.

Luc had come by that night, and they had exchanged stories that neither of them really cared about, and polished off a bottle of Jim between them, but Dean had been a little distracted.

Dean had known Luc was picking up on it, but he said nothing. That was the good thing about Luc – besides his talents in the bedroom which, try as he might, Dean could not deny were nothing short of incredible. Sure, he'd had some pretty wild and even kinky sex with girls before, but Luc... He _knew _things. Places to touch, things to do and say to Dean to drive him wild.

"So," Luc had said that evening, sat in just his boxers, fanning himself with a book about wildlife that belonged to Chuck. Luc downed the last of his whiskey and winced. "Looks like I may be going away to study,"

Dean had started climbing in to his dark blue overalls as Luc talked, ready to head to Bobby's and work on the '67 Impala his father had left to him. "Yeah?" It didn't really bother Dean too much, sure he'd miss the blow jobs, but he wouldn't miss Luc.

"Yeah," Luc echoed. He grinned. "It's nine thirty, Dean,"

"And?"

"And it's dark out. You won't be able to see what you're doing,"

"Welcome to the nineteenth century, Luc; we have lights in the garage,"

Luc stood up, back against the door, his signature Devil Grin in place. "Well as _damn sexy _as those overalls look on you, Dean Winchester, I think they'd look a whole lot better on the floor."

"Luc, get out of my way," But Dean's body betrayed him as Luc's hand traced his manhood through the fabric of the overalls.

Luc grinned even more and pulled Dean against him. "Let's make this a weekend to remember,"

Dean didn't even try to stop Luc. He didn't have a chance in Hell with Lisa anyway. He'd fix her car, she'd than him then be on her way, and they'd probably never see each other again. So Dean had given in completely to Luc that night, more than he usually did, and the two teens had boozed and fucked all night. Dean had told Luc to leave, and Luc had laughed at him, and followed him in to the shower, and they'd made out under the running water, and Luc had gotten on to his knees and given Dean the best head he had received to this very day. They had christened every room and every surface in the whole apartment over the course of the weekend, Hell they'd even fucked up against the front door.

Luc had left on the Monday morning, and that had been the last time Dean had seen him. He'd found it hard looking Lisa in the eye that day. He felt dirty, he felt somehow like he had betrayed her. They girl he had just met.

Much to Dean's delight, Lisa had actually asked to see him again. So they had planned to meet at a local diner for coffee. After being kicked out at closing time, Dean and Lisa had gone back to Dean's for more coffee and a piss poor excuse of a dinner. They had talked until ridiculous o clock in the morning, then Dean had insisted Lisa had the bed. Without him. There was a beautiful woman in his bed, and Dean had absolutely no intention of joining her and pulling his usual party tricks. Lisa seemed too delicate, too special to Dean for that. She was The One. He was sure of it.

Thinking back, he should have known it wasn't food poisoning or a bug. Of course it wasn't. So then why the Hell had Dean been so shocked when three weeks down the line, Lisa had turned up at his door, face streaked with tears, and looked Dean in the eyes, "I'm pregnant, Dean,"

Dean had taken her in his arms, and brought her inside, and he'd just held her, and promised he'd help her through it. He'd be there for her forever. _Til Death do us part._

As he broke out of his reverie, Dean cursed and sank the last of his drink. He went back in to the house, shooting one final glare at Castiel's house, and ignored his Voice Of Reason, which always seemed to sound like Sam, and poured out another glass of whiskey. He had to tread carefully on the swaying floor, but he managed to pick his way back to the couch, onto which he collapsed, and upon which he spent that night.


	9. Chapter 9

_**This is a TERRIBLE chapter, as I am suffering terribly from Writer's Block. I know what I want to happen, but I can't make it happen! There will be some filth in this chapter, but I am struggling to write with no inspiration and one of my cat's mauling myself and the laptop. But I only have the laptop until tomorrow, so I am determined to come up with something. Anything! There isn't much storyline in this chapter – that will be happening over the next couple of chapters, but this one provides shmut for those who desire it [=**_

Dean decided and early morning run was on the cards, and he was impressed that he only had to stop and spew three times along the way. By the time he got back, he was an unhealthy shade of grey, and his hair and clothes were sticking to him. He felt too rough to eat or even shower, so he did what any normal person would do and he washed his car. He actually found it rather therapeutic. He scrubbed and picked and fussed until his Baby was entirely immaculate. Of course, he'd managed to soak himself as well as his car during the process, and he couldn't help but smile as he noticed Georgina Johnston – Gage and Greta's 19 year old granddaughter – gawping at him from across the street. He put on his best dashing smile and raised his hand, waving courteously at her, and the smile didn't fade as he turned back to his Baby. It felt good being ogled at. As schoolboy and primal as it was, Dean enjoyed the attention. He'd always been the center of attention, through high school and college, and he'd even brought in extra work for Bobby back in the day, when the girls would practically snip wires in their own cars to get t_he cute mechanic at Singer's yard to have a look-see at it. _

Dean wiped sweat from his brow as he stood back looking at the beautiful engine of his pride and joy, and he shrugged off the top half of the overalls and tied the arms around his waist. He'd had a shower around lunch time, but he'd need another before he could present himself around humanity.

"Hey sexy,"

Dean looked towards the voice, and spotted Kris, dressed in a pale blue top, beige shorts, sandals and sporting a large pair of shades on his face. "Kris," Dean addressed him with a smile. "Looking rather fine yourself today,"  
Kris cackled. "You'll have Carly filing for divorce if she sees you like that," Kris joked as he plopped down on the lawn. "She has a strange _thing _for mechanics."

Dean laughed awkwardly, and closed the hood of his car. "How's she doing?"

"Huge. Uncomfortable. Grouchy," He chuckled drily. "The usual,"

Kris' face had taken on a distant, almost terrified expression, and Dean couldn't help but laugh and pat him on the shoulder reassuringly. "You'll be _fine_."

Kris moved the shades and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hope so,"

Dean smiled at Kris and offered a comforting hand on his back.

Maybe he should have called first? What if Cas wasn't home? What if he had someone round? A friend? Family? A _girl._ What if he didn't want to see Dean. That thought wouldn't leave Dean alone, and the accompanying heart wrenching pain made him feel as if he might be sick for a fifth time that day. He'd been sick again after a long talk with Kris about babies and becoming a Father. It had gotten him to thinking about Lisa and Ben again, and it had spurred him to come and put an end to things with Cas there and then. He'd had a slice of toast and a cup of coffee for a snack at about 6, then had a shower and slipped in to a pair of jeans and an AC/DC top. He'd made a conscious effort _not _to make an effort to preen himself before seeing Castiel.

Dean had already knocked twice and given Cas a good few minutes to answer the door, determined to get this over and done with, but the wait had made him grow anxious. He started to think that maybe Castiel was _deliberately_ avoiding him. He thought back to when he had been fucking Luc, and how things only happened when _Luc _wanted them to; he'd show up out of the blue and somehow manipulate Dean in to bed, but it seemed if Dean turned up at his dorm room, Luc would be wrapped around some girl and he'd grin and say they'd sort out their assignment later on. Dean's skin crawled at the thought of Luc, and he felt a burning rage bubbling up from deep inside him. Even after almost ten years the way Luc had treated him still affected him. He'd almost lost Lisa a few times because of the insecurities Luc had instilled in him. Setting his mind to the fact that Cas was messing him around, Dean turned to leave then stopped abruptly as a soft glow cut around him and created an abnormally long shadow which seemed to stretch down to where Castiel's Merc was parked in the driveway.

"Dean?" A sleepy Castiel stood in the doorway, wrapped up in his soft, navy dressing gown. He stuck his roll up between his lips and scratched at his head. "What time is it?"

"8 pm,"

Castiel took the cigarette from his lips and sighed. "Bugger."

Dean frowned.

"Come in," Castiel ushered Dean in, stepping aside and peeking out as if he were trying to conceal some dirty secret from the other residents of the street.

"Did I wake you?" Dean turned to face Castiel as he closed the door and pressed his back up against it, and Dean swallowed thickly as he remembered having Castiel pinned to his own front door.

Castiel rubbed his eyes and ruffled his hair, then appeared to snap back in to reality and look at Dean with those ice-blue eyes, and Dean began to feel dizzy as his head began to drown in questions and uncertainty of what he was here to do.

They held each other's gaze for an uncomfortably long while, before Dean eventually motioned for them to go in to the living room and sit down. The couch was pulled out in to a bed again, so Dean slid himself amply up to the top and leaned against the back of the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Did you want coffee? Or something a bit stronger?" Castiel offered, hovering in the kitchen doorway, not really making eye contact with Dean. Something in his demeanor made Dean almost worried.

"Yeah, anything's fine, Cas, thanks," Dean slumped back in to the couch and closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts and piecing together exactly what he was going to say to Castiel. _You're a chickenshit bastard, Dean Winchester. _His irate conscience yelled at him, but he shut it out, determined to drink that voice to sleep as soon as he got home from Castiel's. He opened his eyes in time to see Castiel sweep back in to the room. He flumped down on the couch next to Dean and poured out a glass each from an unlabeled bottle, stifling a yawn.

Dean studied Castiel carefully, his eyes settled for a not so brief moment on the freakin' sexy mop of hair on Cas' head, the delicate lines and planes of his face, the shocking blue of his eyes and he rested again on those full, plush lips. His eyes met with Castiel's for a split second, then he looked away, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up the back of his neck and on to his cheeks at the realization that Castiel was only wearing a pair of boxers underneath the dressing gown. He fixed his gaze upon the work table in the corner of the room that was littered with papers and pens, lit by a spot light that was drilled precariously to the wall. Dean realized he had no idea what job Castiel had, and he suddenly felt rude for never having asked. He twisted round in his seat to look at Cas, who was reaching over the arm of the couch scrabbling at the floor and cursing under his breath. Dean felt his groin stir in interest as his disobedient eyes forced him to notice that Castiel's dressing gown had slipped back and Dean face presented with a face full of the finest ass he'd ever encountered. He looked away quickly distracting himself with the drink in his hands.

Castiel finally returned to an upright position, remote control in hand, and he switched the TV on. "Anything?"

Dean shook his head, pressing the glass down on his crotch, having a battle of the wills between himself and his unruly dick. He was here to cut things off with Cas. _Before _they ended up getting too deep and here he was, threatening to get an erection because the man beside him was only wearing boxers underneath that dressing gown. He shouldn't have even noticed that. All of a sudden, Dean hated dressing gowns. Dean glanced at the time, and decided he'd give himself until 10 o clock. By 10, he'd've told Cas that the kiss – kisses – had just been drunken mistakes, and he was sorry if he'd led him on and taken advantage of him, but he wasn't looking for anything, and it'd be best if they just stayed friends.

_Fuck. _Dean looked around, his eyes steeling to the clock in a mild panic. "2?" Dean's neck hurt and he realized he must have dozed off sitting up on the couch. He felt a warm sensation on his groin, and his hand automatically went to relieve his Midnight Glory, but he stopped halfway remembering where he was. _Oh no._ Dean looked down to see Cas' head nestled in to his lap, and his hand resting on the top of his thigh. He could feel Castiel's breath through his jeans and boxers, and he knew the very fact that Castiel's face – specifically his _mouth –_ was that close to his manhood was turning him on more than he could bear. "Cas," He whispered, gently nudging the other man's shoulders. His _bare_ shoulders. _Fuck._ Dean bit his lip as he realized Cas was only in his boxers now, dressing gown tossed aside, and he felt his heart leap in to his mouth. Castiel grunted incoherently in to Dean's jeans, turning his head so that his lips were touching Dean's zip. Dean grabbed a handful of the bed sheet and he felt himself manage to grow even harder as Castiel's hand brushed up over his hard on and then rubbed his eyes gently. Dean wasn't sure whether Castiel was _deliberately _teasing him, or if he genuinely was too groggy to realize what he was doing.

"Dean?" Castiel murmured in to the zip on Dean's jeans before he pushed himself in to a lop sided sitting position. His face pinched up in to a curious expression as he looked at Dean, and ran his hand through his hair, and Dean tried not to follow his movements, and he tried not to goggle at the ridiculously handsome man laid next to him. At the way those lean muscles flexed as he moved his hand to relieve in itch at the side of his nose, then returned to rest on his hip, mere inches away from the obvious erection that was enclosed in his boxers. "I hope I didn't drool." He ran his fingers over the crotch of Dean's jeans, then appeared to blush as he realized Dean was hard beneath his fingers.

Dean couldn't stop the gasp that escaped him at that touch, and he couldn't deny himself any longer, he couldn't deny himself the taste, the fell, the freakin' _pleasure _of Cas. With an unwarranted moan, Dean grabbed Castiel's face and pulled it up to his, and he brushed his lips against Castiel's lips, smiling as he felt Cas melt in to his touch. Dean pressed his lips to Cas', then he ran his tongue gently across Cas' bottom lip, glad to be granted access and allowed to push his tongue deeper in to Cas' mouth. He flicked his tongue in and out of Cas' mouth as he pulled the smaller man closer up on top of him, and he took full advantage of his newly found access to Cas' almost nude body. His hands ran wild over Castiel's bare chest and back, and his fingers came alive with electricity at the touch, and he grabbed himself a handful of that hair and pulled Castiel's head back to momentarily deepen t he kiss further, then allow himself unlimited access to the expanse of skin that was readily available for exploration for Dean's hands and mouth. He took his time placing open mouthed kisses down Castiel's stubbled jaw line, then proceeded down his neck, adding the scraping and nibbling of teeth to the mix as he crossed the shoulder. Dean's hands were clasped firmly on to Castiel's ass, and he pulled him closer gently, eager to create any sort of friction possible. He freed a hand from ass duty to swoop over Castiel's hip bones – pausing to explore the top of the v that led down to certain areas that Dean was desperate to get to – then it detailed every raise and dip of Cas' toned front, before coming to settle on a hardened nipple. Dean circled the nipple tentatively at first, then pushed a finger across it, smiling as Cas rewarded him with a shiver and a quiet groan that sounded something like _"Mmmmyeh." _then his mouth met up with Castiel's nipple, the hand returning to its original position, squeezing and massaging Castiel's ass. Dean sucked at the nipple, worrying it between his teeth now and again, eliciting pleasured sounds from the man atop him, the noises Cas was making were enough to arouse Dean almost to the point of pain, and he broke away from Castiel's nipple, gasping his name. Castiel's head was thrown back and one hand was holding on the back of the couch, the other was fixed in to Dean's hair. Castiel looked down at Dean, his pupils blown, and he dove down in to a rough kiss with Dean, grinding in to Dean's lap and moving his hands to paw at the bottom of Dean's top. In a moment, he pulled Dean's top off, and he pulled back to allow his eyes to devour the sight before him.

Dean's hands froze in place as Castiel looked down at him, and a moment of pure panic rushed through Dean as he waited for Cas to lamp him or utter words of rejection, but neither happened. Castiel ran his left hand up Dean's right arm, and his eyes dragged across Dean's revealed torso following the movements of his hand, then the hand was on his face, gliding across his lips a moment before Castiel's lips were on his again, and Dean was distantly aware of Castiel tugging at his belt and jeans, but he was too lost in the most intense arousal he'd felt since his teens to properly comprehend the fact that Castiel had managed to slip his jeans down round his ass. Cas' kiss turned dominant and almost aggressive and he bit down on Dean's lips and tongue as they passed through his teeth, and one hand remained in his hair, grabbing and pulling at handfuls, then sliding round to the back of Dean's head and pulling him closer still. The other hand had made its way south, and Castiel was playing with the waistband of Dean's boxers. Dean dug his nails in to Cas' back as swirls of heat radiated from Cas' hands down to his groin, and he broke away from the kiss to moan Cas' name and "_Fuck._" Then he squeezed Castiel's ass one more time for good measure because it was that fuckdamn good and sweet and firm, before changing scenery to the inside of Castiel's thighs. Dean's thumbs slid under the legs of Castiel's boxers, and he tickled round the sensitive crease between Castiel's leg and his torso. Dean felt himself thrust involuntarily up in to Cas as he slid higher up again, and captured Dean's lips again in another forceful kiss. Dean did nothing to retaliate, simply melting in to Cas as he slid his hands across the fabric of the boxers, allowing himself to explore the length and breadth of Castiel's erection as best he could. Dean sucked hard on Cas' chest, just above his chest, and nipped at the soft flesh hard enough to make Cas hiss in pain, and Dean couldn't help but smile with the knowledge that he'd marked Cas. His breath hitched as Castiel's hand closed around his erection, thumb flicking over the end of it and running down the shaft with the precome he was almost ashamed to have already leaked. Castiel began to pump slowly and deliberately, refusing to let Dean away from the kiss, and as much as he didn't expect Cas to be a dominator, he sure as fuck wasn't complaining. He moaned in to Cas' mouth and fumbled around with Cas' boxers until he could reach enough of his cock to make it worthwhile. He mirrored Castiel's motion, mixed between being glad and disappointed when Cas broke away for breath. "Fuck," Dean uttered again, and he threw his head back against the back of the couch so he could watch Castiel's face as it relaxed and then began to contort in elation, and he moaned out Dean's name again. That, for Dean, was it. He couldn't take another second of this foreplay. He wanted Cas. He wanted to be inside Cas. He wanted Cas inside him, and he would go for whatever the fuck he could get the fastest. Probably more roughly than he had intended, Dean threw Castiel down on the bed next to him, and he kicked off his jeans and boxers, leaving them to fall to the floor beside them. The grin that Castiel gave Dean was nothing short of feral, and it turned Dean on even more as he worked Castiel's boxers off. Dean leapt up on to Cas' lap, refusing to allow himself to admit that he fucking _loved_ sitting cowgirl, and he pressed against Castiel and kissed him again. Castiel's eyes were wide as Dean dragged him down the bed, and Dean almost felt himself lose control at the sight of the other man looking so vulnerable underneath him. "Oh _fuck_," Dean moaned in to Cas' ear as he laid down on top of him, and his fingers played around Cas' entrance. And he couldn't lie any more. Not even to himself. He couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. He wanted Cas more than he'd wanted anyone in a long time. "I _want _you," He accentuated the middle word by slipping a finger inside Cas, again having to use every ounce of his being not to just come there and then at the sight of Cas sprawled beneath him, one hand in his own hair and the other grasping at the bed sheets, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth slightly agape, just inviting Dean to kiss him, and so he did. He kissed him and he worked him open in preparation of what was to happen. Castiel's kisses became sloppy and rigid and he panted heavily, arching himself up in to Dean and he pulled Dean away from his mouth and his eyes snapped open, and they were as good as black, half lidded in something beyond euphoria, and when he spoke, his voice gravelly than Dean had ever heard it. "_Fuck me, Dean," _ He pulled Dean down on to him and dragged his feet up the bed, so his knees were bent either side of Dean, and he rocked their pelvis' together, slipping their erections past one another creating enough friction to pose serious risk of prior ejaculation. "I want you to _fuck _me, Dean. _Now,"_

Dean and his celibacy crumbled at this request, and he lined himself up to Cas and began slowly pushing himself inside. He felt Cas tense around him, and he waited for him to release then pushed in again until he was fully sheathed inside him. Dean paused again for a moment to gauge the reaction of the other man, suddenly terrified that he had misheard him, and Cas had been begging him to _go away_ in slightly more insistent terms. But Castiel lay on the bed underneath him, looking straight in to his eyes, and if he weren't already, he would feel naked and intimidated by the expression on his face. Dean began slowly pushing in and out of Cas, and he had to fist the bed sheets and regulate his breathing, and concentrate on holding on and not just exploding inside Cas within the first five movements. Dean didn't even bother trying to hold back the noises that came out of him, dragged out by the way Cas was holding on to his ass and angling his hips up in to Dean so he could reach deeper inside him, and by the way Cas was staring straight at him, a wry smile on his stupidly perfect face, and although Dean was on top, he just fucking knew that Cas was in control here. Even with his practised control techniques, Dean could feel himself building up far quicker than he wanted to, so he slowed his pace down, but made sure to continue hitting that spot that was making Cas squirm and groan each time he hit it, and he reached in between their bodies, slicking his hands with the sweat and precome that was already there, and he began pumping Cas' cock, smiling as he felt Cas wilt beneath him, and he watched as his breathing increased, and he lip read several explicit mutterings, and paid attention to one in particular, which Cas accentuated with another tilt of his hips "_Deeper." _And Dean willingly obliged, thrusting deeper in to Cas, keeping in time with the strokes of his hand, then he watched as Cas' eyes fluttered and rolled back in his head, "Oh fuck, oh _yes._ Mmm Dean, more, deeper, fuck me... Ohh... Ohhh..." And Dean moved his hands to Cas' wrists as he felt his primal urge to take control over the now weaker man, and he gripped so tightly on Cas' wrists, that he was certain they would bruise. He risked one final kiss before he buried his head in Castiel's chest, listening to Cas panting his name over and over, then he pulled back again as he felt heat and something not far from pain twisting in his abdomen, and as if on cue, Castiel's eyes opened and locked with his. "Dean, I'm gonna... _Fuck I'm gonna come!"_ He growled hoarsley, and whether it was his words or they way he fucking managed to keep his eyes open through his own climax, staring straight in to Dean's, Dean felt himself go over the edge, and his rhythm picked up frantically, and he went harder and deeper in to Cas as he felt himself spurt out inside of him, and beyond his control again, he cried out Cas' name as he came.

_**Excuse the filth, I can't help myself! I will try to squeeze another chapter out before I have to return the laptop! Reviews, alerts, favorites and the likes are verrrrrrry much appreciated and they make me very happy =D Anyway, it's almost 4 am here, and my son will be waking me up in a measly four hours or so ]= So Nos da for now my lovely readers, and I shall try my best to get another chapter up tomorrow ^-^ I'm already part way through it, so hopefully I can Mum and write at the same time**_

_**~Lintu x x**_


	10. Chapter 10

Dean blinked his eyes against the harsh light of the sun outside, and he looked around groggily, momentarily confused by his unfamiliar surroundings. He sat up slowly, waiting for the hangover to hit him as the world swam back in to more normal colors and shapes, and he felt a sense of warmth and security. There was no hangover, but his body still ached, and in particular his _dick _felt sore and ravaged. It wasn't until Castiel strode in to the room, that mischievous dressing gown over his shoulders but not done up, and a pair of boxers covering the vital areas that it hit Dean. They had fucked. Dean had come over to cut whatever it was he and Cas had had going on, and they had ended up fucking. He blushed as he remembered Castiel beneath him, talking dirty, and begging for him, and he pulled the covers up around him, suddenly feeling the need to hide himself from Cas.

Castiel hopped on to the bed next to Dean and handed him what turned out to be an epic sandwich. Eggs, bacon, sausage and cheese as crammed in between two slices of fried bread, and Dean couldn't have asked for a better breakfast. A cup of coffee to finish it off and he was done. He thanked Cas and laid back on the bed, allowing his food to go down. It was about five minutes before Castiel returned, and he looked a little forlorn. He laid down next to Dean, covering his face with his arms for a few moments, then he rolled over to face Dean, with the most adorable smile Dean had seen on his face.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked, turning his head to look at Castiel, but staying sprawled on his back under the covers.

"Yeah, just work want me to go out of town for a couple of days."

Dean felt his heart sink at the thought of Cas leaving him, but he didn't voice that. He simply looked back up at the ceiling and sighed gently then closed his eyes. "Is that what you've been doing when you've disappeared for days at a time before?" He was genuinely curious, and he knew it would make him feel better if Castiel's work could be held accountable for his multiple absences, as opposed to some mindfuck game he was playing with Dean's head. A love him and leave him kind of deal.

Castiel applied a sigh of his own before answering. "Yeah. That or Gabe,"

"Gabe?" Dean interest piqued and he couldn't quite ascertain the familiarity of the name.

"My older brother Gabriel," Castiel continued, his voice soft and full of adoration that Dean could only imagine was present in his own voice when he spoke of Sam. "He lives in California with a nice young couple at the moment. They're sharing an apartment, and he drags me up to help him with his degree work."

"I thought you said he's your older brother,"

Castiel seemed to find something funny in Dean's words and a small chuckle came from him. "Gabriel thinks of himself as somewhat of a... _Trickster_." He paused in reflection for a moment. "That, of course, changed after he was arrested for arson. He kind of accidentally burned a place down when one of his antics went wrong." Castiel now heaved a world weary sigh at the memory of his older brother's troublesome ways.

There was a pause before the metaphorical penny dropped in Dean's head. "Gabriel?" He echoed.

Castiel propped himself up, a worried look on his face.

"Who is it he lives with?"

Castiel's expression changed to contemplative, then assured. "Jess, I think. Jess and Sam. They're not often there when I'm around-"

Dean burst out laughing, cutting Castiel off mid sentence. The sheer coincidence of it all suddenly seemed hugely amusing to Dean, and he cackled until his sides hurt, and he couldn't even explain why. "Sam's my brother," He explained eventually, chortling a little more at the perplexed expression on Castiel, which was probably a blend of surprise at the fact and total confusion as to why Dean found it so entertaining.

Dean waved a hand dismissively at Castiel and he rolled on to his side to face Cas and he smiled sympathetically. "I'm done," Castiel's expression didn't change, so Dean closed his eyes to close out the temptation to burst back in to hysterics, probably spraying spit over Cas' face in the process. He bit his lip to contain himself and took a few deep breaths. Out of nowhere, Dean felt warm, soft lips press against his own and he felt himself instantly give in to Cas, his hands shooting up to that darn hair and sliding his hands through it, and groaning in to Cas' mouth as he felt himself hardening already. Fuck he hadn't been this quick since he was a teenager. Castiel threw a leg over Dean and pushed Dean deeper in to the bed, his kiss becoming more urgent as he ground his hips in to Dean's, causing a surprising amount of friction. Cas' right hand found its way in to Dean's hair whilst his left one grabbed on to Dean's hip and pulled him flush against him. The way Cas moved against Dean, creating so much friction, his hands touching all the right places, and his breath ghosting across Dean's neck, and the way he muttered filthy promises in to Dean's ear had Dean moaning out loud again, and he felt himself flush bright red as he lost control, eyes pinching shut and eyebrows knitting together and a small whimper escaped from his lips. Once he regained the few scraps of his dignity, Dean risked opening his eyes to peek at Castiel, who was busy peppering Dean's bare shoulders with kisses. "Urm Cas...?"

"Mmm?" Castiel nipped at Dean's neck and made his way back to Dean's lips and kissed him gently.

"You're gonna have to change these sheets."

Castiel inched back, his eyes connecting with Dean's, and he grinned. "Yeah?"

Dean felt the heat cross his cheeks again and he chewed his lip. "Uh huh," He nodded.

"Good," Castiel replied.

Dean really, really, _really _didn't want to go, but he had work at 5, and he _definitely _needed to shower. Cas had decided to torment him and give him a goodbye kiss. A goodbye kiss pressed up against the inside of the front door – maybe it was revenge? - and he'd gyrated himself up against Dean, very much catching the _attention _of Little Dean, then he'd pushed him out the door and left him to flee across the road flustered and unsatisfied.

He had very nearly been late, and Ellen made a point of scolding him about it, then she'd stopped. He shifted from foot to foot as the small but fierce woman studied him, suspicion and perhaps accusation crossing her sharp features. He flinched at the hand that came to pull his collar aside, then Ellen tutted. "Do that up. I don't want people to think I'm running a whore house here,"

Dean nodded and complied, at a loss for words. Having lost his own mother at a young age to a house fire caused by his drunken father, Dean had never experienced a Mother's ability to read your thoughts simply by looking at you. The shift itself passed amicably, and Dean found himself almost enjoying the mundane tasks, allowing his mind to revert to his time with Cas. He would perhaps a little disturbed how easily he could conjure up an image of Castiel's face twisted in to absolute rapture as Dean had pinned him to the bed.

Dean barely made it home in one piece as his mind replayed the events of last night to him as in full HD inside his head, and he could feel a goofy grin on his face as he unlocked his front door.

It was in that very moment that everything turned to shit.

It started with a kiss. A hungry, forceful kiss. Dean was spun round and slammed against the door with such force that it actually hurt, but before he could protest, lips were crushed against his own, familiar lips, and hands closed around his wrists and pinned his arms against the door. The lips broke away and stole to his neck, then Dean cried out in actual pain as teeth sank in to the soft flesh of his neck. "Cas, what the Hell?" He groaned, pushing the other man back and cradling the injured area in his hand, and his eyes flickered up to the other man's face, and his blood ran cold.

"Guess again,"

_**I'm sorry for the rushedness and crappiness, but the laptop has to go back to my Mammy today and my baaaaaaby I have a tea date with my friend and her gorrrrrrgeous little man riiiight now [=**_

_**Reviews, suggestions, comments, constructive (but kind!) criticizm appreciated, and I will get pen to paper with this story whilst I am laptopless, and shall post again as soon as I can. Thank you my lovely readers for sticking with me, and I promise there is more juice and storyline and probably more smut to come! Any suggestions on how to end it would come in handy =p I must sign off and get my little Prince ready to visit his cousin now =D Love love **_

_**~Lintu x x**_


	11. Chapter 11

**I am SO sorry guys! SERIOUS writers block, mixed with a break up and moving away and a total lack of computer access, and now the original start to the chapter is at my Mami's on her laptop which I can't get to! Sorry to let you down with such a rubbishy update, but I'm struggling! I know what I wanna happen, but can't get it to work!**

**Re-upload**

"Luc?" Dean shoved Luc roughly backwards, and wiped his lips clean of the other man's saliva. "What the fuck are you doing here? How do you know where I live?"

Luc held up his hands in defense as Dean advanced on him. "Steady on," He backed against the Impala, and watched Dean's eyes flicker to the car protectively. Some things never change. "Mike and I had a row," He lifted the bottom of his top to reveal heavily bruised ribs, and then indicated the shiner of a black eye that Dean hadn't noticed until then. "He beat the shit out of me,"

Dean folded his arms, choosing not to move in case Luc got nasty with his car. "And you're here because…?"

"I need a place to stay," Luc muttered, looking down and twisting his hands together.

Dean stared at Luc for a while, deciding whether to batter him or hand him some money for a hotel.

"Please?" Luc added sincerely, and Dean sighed in reply.

"Two weeks, Luc. Not a day longer." Dean heaved another world weary sigh as he opened the front door and watched Luc grab his duffel bag and scamper in like a child running in to a fun house. He couldn't help thinking this was probably a really, _really_ bad idea.

Luc poked through the contents of Dean's refrigerator and grumbled.

Dean watched in an irritated silence as he waited for his coffee machine to finish. "If you're going to bitch you can stay on the streets,"

Luc closed the refrigerator door and waved a hand at Dean. "It's fine," His eyes travelled up and down Dean and he smirked.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"Nothing," Luc replied, sipping his glass of orange juice and averting his eyes. "You just look rather hot in that blouse,"

"Fuck you," Dean snatched his keys up from the kitchen table and stormed out of the kitchen.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Luc shouted after him, taking a moment to appreciate Dean's ass strutting away from him.  
"I'll be late back. Don't wait up,"

"Don't count on it baby,"

Dean slammed the door behind him and stalked out to his car. He paused with his hand on the door, seeing a shadow potter past the window in Cas' living room. His heart skipped a beat as he thought back to the events of the previous night and that morning. He knew he was cutting it close already, and Ellen would have his guts for garters if he was late, but the urge to see Cas just one more time before he pushed off had him trotting across the road to the other man's house before he knew what was happening. He knocked rapidly on the door, then waiting, bobbing impatiently up and down on the balls on his feet.

When the door opened, Castiel was dressed in a white tank top and a pair of black slacks and he had a suspicious looking roll up between his lips. He looked as if he hadn't bothered so shave nor so much as run a hand through his hair since the exploits of that morning. Castiel took the roll up from between his lips and blew out a white cloud wincing his eyes against the burning of the smoke. "What do you want, Dean," His voice was thick and hoarse, and it made Dean flinch.

"I'm just on my way to work." Dean smiled shyly, as he stepped up next to Castiel, and he reached out a hand to grab the bottom of his top. "Just wanted to see you before you leave,"

Cas took an exaggerated step away from Dean and put the roll up back in between his lips and drew in a long drag. "You've seen me," He replied coldly.

Dean dropped his hand, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion at Castiel's cold manner.

Castiel rubbed his eyes tiredly and exhaled the smoke loudly. "Can you go please? I have to leave."

Dean's jaw dropped, but before he had a chance to start yelling the odds, Cas stepped back inside his house and shut the front door in his face. "What the fuck?" Dean muttered in disbelief. He blinked in shock then hammered on the door again. "Cas! What the fuck?" he glared at the door angrily for a while, then pounded on it again. The door opened, and Cas peeked out, joint in mouth, glass of whiskey in hand, and he looked past Dean with bloodshot eyes.

"You shouldn't drink and drive, Cas," Dean blurted.

As if to prove a point, Cas downed the drink. "What would you care, Dean?" He dragged from the joint, stepping away from the doorway and he began sweeping around the room gathering together his belongings. "Go away please, Dean." He pushed past Dean to load up his car.

"Let me drive you," Dean begged, pain and concern etching in to his voice.

"I don't want your pity, Dean."

Dean flinched at that. "Cas, what the fuck has come over you?"

Castiel smirked as he climbed behind the wheel of his car, "You, Dean,"

Dean was left standing alone as Castiel sped off down the road, wheels screeching as he rounded the corner far faster than was safe for a sober drive, let alone a high and angry driver.

Dean felt sick. He had no idea what he could have done to upset Castiel like this. He didn't have time to mope about it; he'd be cutting it fine enough as it was, so he begrudgingly turned back towards his car and loaded himself in to it. Dean took a deep breath as he started the Impala, and he stared hard at the house for a few moments, mulling over what had just happened before taking off, belting it down the road, praying to the Higher Powers he wasn't about to come across Castiel's car upside down on the side of the road.

Whatever Castiel had meant, it had Dean thinking. A whole clusterfuck of a lot. Dean turned to his faithful friend to shut the voices up. Who knew how much he'd had to drink? Who gave a crap? Sure as Hell Dean didn't.

Luc was stood in the doorway to the kitchen when Dean crashed in to the house after work, clearly far from happy. Luc was dressed in a white vest top and a scruffy pair of jeans, and he looked more like a drunken redneck than the co founder of one of the biggest law firms in California; former or nay. He leaned against the door from, blocking Dean's escape to the kitchen. "Drinking on the job, Dean. I thought better of you."

"Get out of my way." Dean warned, making a clumsy attempt at pushing his adversary.  
"Do you need to talk?" Luc offered, sounding more curious about the gossip than genuinely concerned.

"Fuck you, Luc."

Luc grinned widely. "Well if you'd rather do that," He opened his arms out to the sides in a welcoming gesture, I'm game."

Dean took the opportunity to shove Luc out of his way and made his way to the rapidly diminishing supply of alcohol, and he made a quick mental not to replenish the stock after he killed Luc for draining it. He turned on his heels, with his chosen beverage in hand, and swore at Luc for being so goddam close and scaring the bejesus outta him.

"You never used to moan about me being this close to you, Dean." Luc took hold of Dean's top and pulled him close. "Well _moan_ perhaps…"

"Let go of me, Luc." Dean's body tensed as he prepared for attack, knowing Luc wasn't the kind to back down without a fight.

"You don't mean that," Luc's hand began running up Dean's arm and to his neck.

Although his eyes shut against his will, he managed to keep his voice stern. "Luc. Stop." Without warning, Dean had his hand round Luc's throat, and Luc was pinned against the kitchen wall, grinning. "I forgot you like it _rough_," He taunted.

Dean flinched as Luc pulled at the hair at the back of his head playfully. His eyes closed again as he tried to regain control over himself as Luc rubbed against him teasingly.

"What makes you think you can say no to me now?"

Dean's eyes fluttered open and he pushed himself away from Luc roughly. "No." He stated firmly, but brought no reaction from the other man. "It's not going to happen, Luc."

Luc smirked and nodded assuredly at Dean. "Okay, Dean. Sure."

Dean glowered, but decided he wasn't sober enough to stand a decent chance of battering Luc.

The next few days were spent in a blur of work and alcohol and watching shitty movies with Luc. Dean even considered branching out to something more than just booze. He'd heard cocktailing painkillers with something potent could produce some interesting effects, but something about having his stomach pumped and having Ellen give him a hard time for being such a damn fool put him off the idea. Nothing was worth the Wrath Of Ellen Harvelle. Dean staggered back in to the living room with a fresh drink for him and Luc, not at all surprised to find him channel surfing and with his hand down his pants.

"Dude, can you play with your junk in your own time, please?" Dean sunk back in to what was left of the couch, the rest being taken up by Luc, who was leaning against the opposite arm of the couch, his left foot on the floor, his right by Dean's ass.

"You never complained about my junk before,"

Dean shot a venomous glance at Luc, but decided not to dignify him with a response.

Luc downed most of his drink before turning pointedly to Dean. "What's with the guy across the road then?"

Dean blanched at the bluntness of the question and the blatant accusation in Luc's eyes, before he resumed a neutral expression and replied flatly. "I don't know what you're talking about," Yet he still shifted uncomfortably under Luc's scrutinizing glare.

"He's been away for a while," Luc pressed, fingering the rim of his glass – a gesture Dean associated with Luc's random possessive behavior he got back in college, which he'd follow through with rough, dominating sex, the whole time pinning Dean down and telling him Dean was _his_, no one else can have him. It made Dean's blood run cold, and he spotted a familiar look in his eyes as Luc leaned closer to him.

"Okay, Dean," Luc's hand had magicked its way on to Dean's crotch, and it began doing very distracting things.

Dean closed his eyes, suddenly feeling a lot more drunk than he should have ben. When he opened his eyes again, the room was swaying gently. "What the…?"

Dean was cut short by the feeling of lips against his own, and as he was about to protest, Luc began sucking on Dean's sweet spot, effectively turning the insults and protests in to a singular, shuddering moan of pleasure.

"You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you?"

Luc pushed a hand up Dean's shirt and dug his nails in to Dean's chest, and grabbed a handful of hair as he climbed on to Dean's lap – making sure to rub against his wood in the process – pulling Dean's head to the side and taking advantage of the newly available flesh.

"Fuck…" Dean muttered, "Luc I-" Again he was cut off by Luc's mouth, and Dean briefly returned it, relishing in its distant familiarity, and he felt his already hard cock throb with the need to be discharged, but moments later, Dean was locked in his upstairs bathroom, relieving his tension, eyes shut, head tossed back against the wall, and all he could think about was Cas. Cas laying beneath him, hot and dishevelled, face pinched in ecstasy, panting his name over and over and over and _fuuuuck!_

The atmosphere in the household the following days was anything but pleasant. Dean went about his daily routines as if Luc weren't even there. He knew he was pissing Luc off, and he knew that was a fire he really shouldn't be playing with, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd deal with the consequences when they came.

It was a week and a half before Castiel returned. Dean had just finished a very long, very busy shift at The Roadhouse, and he was not in a good humor. He virtually drifted his Impala in to his driveway, earning a disapproving glance from Greta Johnston before she scurried back in to her house, and Dean couldn't help but wonder what the _fuck _the old dear was doing up pottering around in her garden at 2.30 in the morning as he jumped out of his car and slammed his door, not bothering to lock it, because let's face it; a car like that goes missing it kind of stands out in a place like this. Mrs B sprang to her feet and promptly trotted off, clearly sensing the foul mood Dean was in, and wisely choosing to give him a wide berth. Dean muttered an apology and promised her cuddles as soon as Luc was gone, then he burst in through the front door, mentally deciding what type of alcohol to consume to soothe his frayed nerves.

"Dean!" Luc jumped to his feet, grinning devilishly, and Dean was instantly on red alert.

"Luc, what the fuck…" Dean's question was answered as a flustered looking Castiel stood up and raked a hand through his hair. "Cas?" Dean briefly thought about pummelling them both, but decided another assault charge on his record wouldn't work in his favor. His fists clenched at his sides, regardless, and his jaw flexed. He very much noticed Cas looking him up and down with uncertainty.

"I was just leaving," Castiel paused by Dean and gave him a brief, complex look, before smiling and turning back to Luc. "It was nice to meet you, Luc," He awarded a final unreadable look to Dean before exiting the house.

Before Luc could so much as open his mouth, Dean had him pinned against the wall, pressing his forearm in to his throat. "What did you do with him?"

"I didn't do anything; he came over and asked for some milk and we got talking," Luc's eyes glinted, and a shit eating grin crossed his face. "Why? What would it matter if something happened?" Luc challenged, and again, Dean had to resist the urge to clout him.

This stumped Dean; if he opened his mouth about his feelings – his what? – about Cas, Luc would be sure to make him regret it, but if he denied them, Luc would press the issue until Dean caved, or Dean wouldn't it past him for Luc to actually go and ask Cas outright himself. Unfortunately for Dean, his hesitation spoke volumes, and Luc's face turned mischievous as he pressed his hands together, index fingers pointing in Dean's face, the other folded together. "You like him," It wasn't a question.

Dean's eyes narrowed and he forced a poker face. "Don't be a dick," He snarled, but his eyes flicked away briefly and he shifted uncomfortably. "I know what you're like, Luc." Dean leaned in closer to Luc in a weak attempt to threaten him. "He's a good guy. Just leave him alone,"

Luc stood his ground, Devil Smile in place, and Dean flinched as Luc brushed his fingers over his lips. "It's not Cas I'm interested in," He sneaked a hand round to Dean's ass and pulled him closer. "And I don't think he's really all that in to you,"

Dean glared at Luc, but shuddered as nails scratched his lower back. "Luc-" Luc's lips pressed against his, and his hand closed over Dean's crotch.

"That's the best ride I've ever had," He slid a hand down to Dean's ass and squeezed it. "And that," He nibbled at Dean's sweet spot. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. And let's face it; you're not going to be getting any, any time soon,"

So Cas was home. Cas was home, and he hadn't told Dean he was coming home. He'd been gone longer than he'd said he would. But he'd gone to Dean's. He _must _have been looking for Dean. He wouldn't have known Luc was there. His peculiar behavior before he left must have been just that. Peculiar behavior. Overtired, overworked and cranky. Too busy on his business trip to contact Dean. What did that matter anyway? It wasn't like they were _together_. Just… Seeing each other? Not even that. Fucking? Hardly. They'd slept together once. There were certainly no wedding bells ringing. Dean would go and see Castiel. They'd have a chat and sort things out and be on the same page. The thought that, that page might be one where the other night had _never happened_ it was a _drunken mistake_ with no actual drunkenness, saddened Dean, but if that that was what Cas wanted that is what would be. It would be hard, but better than just not knowing. _ No. Not tonight. Hell be too tired. I'll give him a couple of days to settle back in. Maybe he'll come to me. _Deep down, Dean knew he was getting his hopes too high.

When Dean got home from another busy shift, he sought out more comfort of the alcoholic kind and headed straight for the kitchen. Luc was standing by the back door, looking as guilty as the day is long. Dean paused mid reach to the refrigerator, eyeing Luc suspiciously. "What?"

Luc shook his head and rubbed his stubble nervously. "Just having a smoke," He answered shiftily, "Good shift?"

"Why the hell do you care?" Dean bit back, snatching a beer out of the fridge and opening it. "You found a place yet?" He dropped in to one of the chairs and took a few gulps of his beer.

Luc took the seat next to Dean and faced him, some attempt of hurt written on his face. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" He stroked a hand up Dean's thigh suggestively.

"Yes, Luc," Dean stated coldly. "I don't trust you." Dean stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door and he stalked up the stairs and to his bedroom. Dean's head began to spin with the possibilities of the shit that Luc might stir. Luc had a reputation in college; he had a way of manipulating people, and causing a whole fuckload of trouble in relationships. Sam had lost his first girlfriend to Luc, and he'd been heartbroken, sobbing to Dean and Dean still hadn't the balls to say no to Luc. They'd fought about it, sure. Dean had beaten the shit in to Luc, and Luc had laughed the entire time, even coughing up blood he'd continued to laugh, finally resisting Dean's attacks, telling him over and over that this girl was bad news, if anything he'd done Sammy a _favor_, and granted, the skank had ended up in juvie, but it had taken until Jessica for Dean's baby brother to get over Ruby. Somehow, the night had ended with a beaten and bloody Luc pounding into Dean and Dean held on to the sink in the bathroom. Fuck. Dean couldn't risk letting Luc get his claws in to Cas.

He'd talk to Cas tomorrow.

**A/N More apologies for the crappiness! I now have access to a computer and the hairnet again, so provided I _can _write, I will! I only have my son's nap time to write, and I have to do housework then too ]= Hard life! I have a few other stories on the go as well, so I'm struggling with an overload! I was gonna have Dean and Luc have it away, but through personal experience, I know having sex ruins everything ]= And their love is worth more than a cheap fuck. Wish mine had been… 4 and a half years and a baby means less than a slimy little skank. Oh well. We live and learn! So no Dean/Luc smut in the present I'm afraid! Oooh, for anyone interested, I'm gonna try for a Dexter/Supernatural crossover =p Keep your eyes peeeeeled! Thank you for reading, and I promise I'll get on the case now! Sorry for the crappiness! Love and chocolate =D x x**


	12. Chapter 12

**Sooo just to confuse everyone, this is going to be from Cas' POV! It's the only way to explain what Luc is up to! It hit me whilst I was out walking my Wifey's dog this evening! Sorry to mix stuff up, but hopefully it'll explain the last chapter a bit better; it runs alongside it by the way [= Thank you for your continued support 3 **

**Ooh... Prize of imaginary cherry brandy to anyone who spots the BLATANT line I've ripped off Angel ;) **

Castiel cut off the engine of his car and sighed deeply. He stayed firmly planted in the driver's seat of his car, both hands grasping the steering wheel, as if to try and choke the life out of an already inanimate object. The last week with his brother had cleared his head significantly. Gabriel had always been the king of pulling stupid rods out of his ass, and this last week had proved that once again. The very thought of what he had decided to do conjured up crocodiles of anxiety in his stomach, and he'd actually pulled his car over a couple of times to dry retch at the side of the road. He raised his cigarette to his lips and took a final, deep drag from it before kicking the door open and flicking the butt out on to his driveway. His eyes dared a glance to the house opposite, and his heart flipped accordingly as he spotted a vague shadow passing the living room window curtains. He inhaled deeply and climbed out of the car, choosing to watch the floor as he approached Dean's house, as if that made what he was about to do any less daunting. He had been a dick, and he _knew_ he had been a dick, and now he was going to apologize and give Dean a chance to explain. Cas felt slightly dizzy as he raised his knuckles to rap at the door, and suddenly wished he'd dashed in to his own house to have something to soothe his nerves. There was no turning back and scampering off in to the dark now, and he sucked in a lungful of air as footsteps approached the other side of the door then ceased for a split second before the door swung open.

_Who the fuck...? _Castiel knew he was staring with his mouth hanging open, but in that very moment, he realized he had made the hugest mistake of his life, and for the first time ever, he'd be ringing Gabriel to tell _him _'I told you so'. Castiel stuttered stupidly for a moment, trying to bring together words to the effect of 'Wrong house' or 'Who the fuck are you?' or _anything _that could excuse his spinning round and running back across the road to his car and it as fast as he could back up to his brother's. Why didn't he drop in at The Roadhouse to see if Dean was working?

"Can I help you?" The blond haired man asked, looking more than a little puzzled. Something about the way he looked Castiel up and down made Cas feel somewhat uneasy, yet he still couldn't find it in him to turn and leave.

"Is Dean home?" His voice came out smaller than he intended, and he instantly flushed with embarrassment.

"He's out at work," The man gestured vaguely in the general direction of The Roadhouse, "Can I help?"

Cas shook his head. "I've run out of milk, but it's okay, I can..." He jabbed his thumb towards his own house.

"No, no," The man stepped aside and waved Castiel in. "Come on in, I'll get you some now."

Castiel obliged numbly, staring blankly at the other man as he trotted in to the kitchen and back out a minute later.

"You look shot," He handed the bottle of milk to Cas, and looked at him, a strange portrayal of concern etched in to his rough features. "Can I get you a coffee?"

"No-"

"No, no." He pushed Cas down on the couch. "I insist." He wandered back in to the kitchen and clattered around for a little while before emerging with two cups, one of which he handed to Castiel, the other he kept to himself. "I'm Lucifer, by the way,"

Castiel's mind whizzed as a distant bell rang in his head. Dean had mentioned a Lucifer once; he remembered because of the unusual name – not that he had any right to mock anyone for having an odd name.

"Luc," Luc offered his hand timidly to Castiel and waited for him to take it. "I prefer Luc, for _obvious _reasons," He explained, laughing throatily.

"Cas," Castiel offered, shaking the other man's hand for what he deemed to be _long enough_. It was _him._ The guy. Dean's first and most notorious. Dean had referred to him as 'just some dick I used to fool around with' but Castiel had known there had been more to it than that. It was in Dean's eyes when he'd talked about him, just in passing about how he'd come to discover his sexuality. Castiel hadn't pushed. It wasn't his place to. Now here he was, face to face with the guy he was in competition with. And judging by the set up here, Luc had already won.

"Oh, _Cas_," Luc cooed, sitting forward in his seat and not so subtly brushing his fingers over Castiel's leg. "Dean's talked about you a lot,"

Cas couldn't help but pick up on the past tense of that sentence, and he felt his heart drop. "Talked?"

Luc nodded and leaned towards Cas conspiratorially as if he were spreading the latest gossip in high school. "Yeah," He slurped his coffee loudly then continued, an excited edge to his voice, "He said you guys are really good friends." He smiled at Castiel and rubbed his thigh affectionately, almost condescendingly, and Castiel felt himself shy away from the touch.

_Friends?_ Castiel thought bitterly. He'd let Dean in, he'd willingly given in his virginity to Dean, and Dean was telling people they were just _friends_. Castiel breathed away the urge to start throwing punches and traded it for a thin smile. "Friends, huh?"

Luc nodded enthusiastically and started rambling on about his and Dean's exploits over the past few days, but Castiel had effectively zoned out. He had a sneaking suspicion that the numerous smiles and touching his thigh were an attempt at flirtation, but Cas had all but shut out everything around him, as he replayed things in his mind. He started to feel nauseous with the thoughts sloshing around in his brain, and he held on to the arm of the chair for a moment, genuinely feeling like he was about to topple off the couch altogether. Castiel had led a quiet and mundane existence, more than aware that he found both genders attractive, but never having come across a flesh and blood human being that made him feel the way Dean Winchester had. Castiel ran his hands through his hair roughly as he tried to rattle away the thoughts of Dean's betrayal, and the images of what was probably going on between Luc and Dean behind closed doors, and the casual stroke through the hair turned in to an agitated ruffle of it, and Castiel thought Luc probably interpreted his unusual behavior in quite the wrong way, but he couldn't bring himself to care if Luc thought that he was reacting to his flirting, and he simply nodded and smiled accordingly with Luc's pauses, all the while trying to think of a good enough reason to disappear. _The milk's going to go off._ Was all that struck him, and that _definitely_ sounded like a piss poor excuse. As if the heavens had been listening, an interruption happened itself upon the pair, Luc shot out of his seat as if an electric current had been put through it, shouting Dean's name out and Castiel bolted to his feet at the sound of the front door opening just a moment later, and looked at the worn out, stressed looking Dean who was frozen in the doorway, hand still on the door as his eyes shot from Luc to Castiel and back again, clearly assessing the situation and judging by his stance, he was thinking about turning violent. Castiel didn't miss Dean's fists clenching at his sides, and he balked as he realized what Dean must have been thinking

"Luc, what the fuck...?" Dean's voice held a dangerous edge to it that Castiel hadn't heard before, and he wasn't going to lie; he didn't like it.

As a nervous gesture, Castiel ran his fingers through his hair again, internally cursing himself for making it look even more suspicious than it already did. He eyed Dean again, watching as his fists relaxed slightly, probably deciding whatever it looked like he had walked in on wasn't worth the damage to his house and the probable follow up trouble it would cause him, should Castiel or Luc open their mouths to the wrong people about it. And let's face it, if Luc and Cas went in to hospital – and Dean would either have to ring an ambulance or take them in himself – 'We both fell down the stairs together, and it has nothing to do with the angry looking man standing over there wearing our blood' most likely wouldn't be believed by anyone with a slight hint of common sense. The most horrible static silence filled the room before Castiel broke it with an announcement that he was just leaving and, thanking his lucky stars, he moved to leave the house, making sure he gave Dean his best we-need-to-talk glower as he passed him. Castiel thought he heard noises as he walked away from the house, but he decided the last thing he wanted to do right now was to walk in on Dean and his new/old boyfriend having rough I've-had-a-bad-day sex, and he headed on back to his own house.

**Okay so I hope this chapter has cleared up a bit of confusion from the last one, and it's a bit clearer what I'm getting at! It's silly o clock here, and I am hammering out chapter 13, and I will endeavor to have it up ASAP! Feedback always welcome [= Thank you for bearing with me and my unbelievable Writers Block! Had a rough couple of months, but hopefully, I can get back in to the swing of things and can get this all done and dusted. Love to all x x**


	13. Chapter 13

And in his own house he stayed for the next 48 hours.

It was only the day after that when he turned up. Luc stood at the door, holding an unlabeled bottle in his hand, and he had a juvenile grin on his face. "Cas, hey,"

Castiel forced a smile. "Luc." He didn't want to kick him in the face. He _didn't._

"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot the other night," He offered out the bottle, explaining as Cas hesitantly took it. "Blackberry vodka; Dean's home brew. He said you like it,"

Castiel nodded, then shifted awkwardly as he realized Luc was expecting to be invited in. "Sure, thanks, um... Come in,"

Luc didn't waste a second in bolting in to the house and making himself at home on the sofa which was acting as a sofa and not a bed at that very moment in time, thank _goodness_.

"Please, make yourself at home," Castiel dead panned. He brought glasses in to the living room and poured out a drink for each of them before plopping down on to the couch as far from Luc as he could. Something about sitting around playing best buddies with the fuck buddy of the guy you were still hopelessly hung up on just didn't sit right with Castiel, but he got the feeling this guy could cause more trouble than it was worth, so he went along with it as they talked the evening away, finishing off a lot more of the vodka than he intended. It was giving him an excuse to not talk. Luc had made his way gradually closer and closer to Castiel until he was leaning in to him, and Castiel got the feeling he was acting a lot more wasted than he really was.

"Dean's a damn good lay, man," Luc slurred, and he didn't notice Castiel tensing at the words, or if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. "Don't you agree?"

Castiel bit his lip, finding his smiles harder to force as time went on.

Luc pointed at Cas with his glass in his hand and grinned. "I think he really liked you," He laughed as he helped himself to another glass of vodka. "And I can see why," His eyes searched for Castiel's, but Cas kept his gaze cast downwards, still nodding, still pretending to smile. "I mean, hey, don't tell him I said anything, but the guy is a bit of a whore. You know," He waved his arm in the air, "Women. Men. He doesn't care. He was even screwing around when he was married to Lisa," He looked up at Cas and leaned closer still, this time placing a hand on Castiel's leg. "It's a pity he's let you go, really."

"Dean and I never..."

"Sure you didn't," Lucifer laughed. "Like he's never sucked me off. I know what that boy is like. His lies sound pretty when the stars are out, but he forgets every promise he's made when the sun comes up again,"

Castiel swore he could taste blood from where he was chewing his lip, but he continued to smile and nod, fearing he was probably on the edge of insanity with it.

Luc looked at his watch for what seemed like the four hundredth time that evening and he winced. "I'd better be getting home. Dean's due back any moment, and he'll want coffee." He made a sound effect of a lashing whip as he stood up then laughed.

Castiel walked Luc to the door, pondering whether going over there with a baseball at was really a good idea, and he smiled broadly as Luc turned around at the door. "Well it was lovely having your company this evening,"

Luc bit his lip bashfully and twisted his shoe awkwardly on the floor. "We should do it again,"

Castiel managed to keep his reaction under control and he nodded pleasantly. "Sure." He opened the door for Luc and ushered him out.

Luc turned around and leaned up on to his tip toes and pressed a kiss on to Castiel's lips, then he fled the scene of the crime without looking back.

Castiel stayed, frozen to the spot in confusion? Horror? Utter shock, perhaps. He slammed the door shut and ran upstairs to his bathroom and got in to the shower before it had even heated up.

Castiel called in to work sick on Monday morning. The real reason was that he'd smoked himself in to oblivion over the weekend, and had the roughest whitie he had ever encountered. He could hardly eat. He called in for the week, asking to take it as his leave, claiming he had some personal matters he had to sort through which simply couldn't wait.

Monday night it happened the first time.

The knocking.

Just a normal knock. Castiel was suffering still from the after effects of the colossal amount of marijuana he had smoked over the weekend, and he chose not to answer it, opting instead to sit cuddled up on his sofa bed with the sheets wrapped around him, deciding what manner of monstrosity was waiting at his door to kill him. He glanced at the time and confirmed that 11pm was _definitely_ too late for any normal – for instance post man, delivery agent, sales person – to be knocking, and this fairytale neighborhood housed only him and Dean who stayed up past 9.30 pm, and there was no _way_ it would be Dean, because he would either be working, or fucking Luc, so that left the only logical explanation as there was some kind of deranged, psychopathic murderer standing on his doorstep, ready to butcher him the very moment he answered the door, and no one on the street would be awake to witness it. Castiel dropped his head in to his lap as he realized that smoking pot had a profound effect on his already rampant paranoia, but he chose to ignore the knocking anyway. The monster would eventually give up and go away, and if it were a normal human, they would compute that he must have been sleeping because it was _late_ and the sensible thing would be to return in the daylight hours to try again.

Tuesday morning there was another knock at the door, but Castiel was in the shower and by the time he heard it, he knew he'd be too late if he fled down there in his towel, and even if he did, it would probably be some idiot trying to sell him something or force him in to some religion he wasn't interested in. By Tuesday evening, Castiel had settled back down greatly, and was feeling a lot more human. He figured if The Knocker returned that evening, he would answer the door and make up some crappy story about not hearing the door in the first place.

It was 7 o clock when it happened. Castiel looked up to the door on impulse, as if the door would be holding out a notice telling him who was on the other side, and he rolled his eyes at himself as he approached the door, plastering on yet another fake smile as he opened the door. What a job it was to keep that smile there when he saw Luc on his doorstep. _Brilliant. What the fuck does he want?_ Castiel decided answering the door _had_ been a bad idea after all. Other than the fact that Dean had told Castiel that this guy was a total jerk off, there was something about him that Castiel couldn't quite put his finger on. He just got a bad feeling about him. But of course, Castiel being the ever pleasant neighbor, greeted Luc kindly and asked him if he'd like a coffee.

Four hours later, Luc had made his way through half a bottle of Cas' home brew cherry brandy, and Castiel had finished off the last of the bottle of the blackberry vodka. Luc had harped on about Dean most of the time, as if he were trying to rub it in Castiel's face, that _he_ had won Dean in the silent contest they had going on between them, and Castiel thought very hard about clouting Luc with the empty bottle, but decided against it. Still a little delicate from his rough weekend, Castiel found that the vodka had more of an effect on him than it usually did, but this didn't stop him from noticing Luc's little advances, and his sly glances at the clock every few minutes.

With a final check of the time, Luc got himself to his feet and swayed uneasily for a moment before steadying himself on Castiel and taking advantage of the moment, laying both of his hands on Castiel and looking him in the eye. "Dean was stupid to let you go,"

Castiel squirmed out of his grasp expertly and pulled the front door open with a little more gusto than he was ready for, and combined with his over sensitivity to the alcohol, he stumbled a little.

"I'll see _you_," Luc accentuated the word with an affectionate tap on Castiel's nose, "soon."

"Can't wait." Castiel replied flatly. He closed the door as soon as Luc was out and he turned back to the living room, throwing out the sofa bed and collapsing on top of it without bothering to undress.

He woke about an hour later to the sound of knocking again, but he actively ignored it again until it stopped. He _could not _be bothered with Luc, and he got the distinct impression that Luc was slowly but surely trying to seduce him.

Castiel stifled a yawn as he flipped the two eggs over in the frying pan. Nothing like a fry up to cure a mild hangover. He ate his breakfast in silence, his mind straying once again to Dean. He couldn't stop thinking about the night they'd had together. Everything had seemed so perfect. So _genuine_. Dean had instigated the sex. He had started it, and he'd taken the lead; he'd not pushed Cas in to anything, in fact he'd clearly hesitated at one point, and looked like he was ready to peg it there an then. Castiel had given himself to Dean, he'd fallen for him, hook, line and sinker, and he'd given everything he had to Dean that night. He couldn't deny the fact that it was most likely the best sex he had _ever_ had, and truth be told, Castiel had been just a little bit of a man whore in his college years. He had held down two serious relationships in his time; the first in high school with a girl Meg Masters, and they had been together for almost three years, before he found out that she had been having it away with the school's most feared Crowley McLeod, and the second being with Amelia James. They had stayed together for going on 9 years, but she had left him when she found out she was pregnant, claiming she couldn't be with someone who worked such silly hours and went away on business trips every three weeks. Castiel had been beyond heartbroken when she had left him, stating he would have nothing to do with their baby, and to this day he didn't know if it was a boy or a girl, but something inside him told him he would have been a proud Father to a little girl. Castiel hadn't been with anyone since then, and that was north of four years before. His move to Lawrence was associated with his job, as he'd been transferred to another branch, and he had hoped it would be a totally frsh start. He had come to accept that he would be a bachelor forever more, and he had to come to accept that. Then he'd spotted that beautiful car on the side of the road, and he had met Dean Winchester. Perhaps if he'd know how it would turn out, he might have just driven on past him and saved himself all this misery.

Friday. Luc had invited himself round briefly on the Thursday afternoon, but he hadn't stayed long – not that Castiel was complaining. His thoughts about Dean, however, were turning bitter.

The knocking at obscure hours had continued, and Castiel had continued to ignore it. Thursday evening, Castiel finally made the long trek down to his mail box to fetch the mass of envelopes that had accumulated since Monday. He glanced through them briefly as he trotted back up to the house, thinking perhaps he should have been wearing more than tank top and slacks, and the extra long roll up hanging from between his lips probably looked more than a little suspicious, and he doubted greatly that any of the prim-and-propers around here approved of anything other than a glass of wine with dinner now and again. One envelope caught his eye. It was small, smaller than standard bills or informal letters, and when he flipped it over, it had neatly written on there just 'Cas' in black printed lettering. The rest of the mail was discarded on his work desk and he perched on his couch as he opened the envelope and unfolded the paper inside.

_**Cas**_

_**We need to talk**_

_**Dean**_

A lump formed in Castiel's throat at the words, and he snapped the letter shut and shoved it back inside the envelope as if that would take away the pain that came along with the letter.

It was so impersonal. Brief. To the point. Dean wanted to _talk. _

Under _no _circumstances does good news follow the words 'We need to talk'. Castiel began to feel a little dizzy with panic at what Dean could _possibly_ want to talk about. It wasn't like they were _together_, so it wouldn't be the 'It's not you, it's me' talk. A few more scenarios ran through his head, but the only one that was plausible and that actually made any sense was that Dean wanted to talk to him about Luc. He wanted to say that the night he and Cas had spent together 'will always be special' but he'd found someone he really cared about – his old flame from college – and they were going to settle down and get married and fuck only knows what else.

Castiel had managed to play it cool until then, masking what he was really feeling, but he finally dropped the act, now that he was on his own for good, in every sense of the word, and he picked up the lamp on the table beside the couch and he hurled it across the room. He glared angrily at the shattered pieces, pissed that he would have to clear it up himself, and he resorted to just letting the tears fall silently.

By about 7.30, Castiel had a pounding headache. He had some extra strength painkillers in the cabinet in the bathroom that he had been given after a car accident a year or so previously, and he was pretty certain they were still in date.

Drinking whiskey probably didn't help ease the headache at all, but Castiel was already too drunk to really care. He pulled the final drag from his joint and crushed the end in an ashtray. Another swig of the whiskey, and he winced at the vile taste and shook his head after swallowing it. It was disgusting, but it was the only thing his house had left to offer, and he was too angry and hurt to go without. There was a knock at the door, and Castiel staggered to it and opened it before his cognitive brain told him it was a bad idea to answer the door dressed now in just boxers and steaming.

Luc blatantly eyed Castiel hungrily when he answered the door, and he grinned. "Are you having a party in here?" He attempted to peek around the door to see if there was any company.

"Whattdyouwant?" Castiel slurred, stumbling back and inadvertently opening the door and Luc took full advantage and jumped in to the house. "Fuck sake."

Luc turned to Castiel, still grinning. "You must be _fun _drunk," He kicked the door closed, deliberately closing in to Castiel's personal space in doing so, and he swiped the bottle off Castiel and downed a fair bit before stopping to cough at the horrendous taste.

Castiel fell forward on to Luc and laughed stupidly. "Sorry,"

"Hey, hey, that's fine," Luc cooed evenly. "I don't mind at all,"

Castiel must have blacked out at some point, because he woke up with warm sunlight burning his eyes. He instantly regretted waking up when it felt like there was a family of jack hammers having a rave inside his head, and he groaned as he sat up. "Fuck me,"

"I wish,"

Castiel jumped up, and instantly toppled back over, landing ungracefully on his backside.

Luc was draped across the couch, also looking a bit worse for wear.

"Oh no." Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with the backs of his hands, hoping that when he opened his eyes again, Luc would be gone, but no such luck. "Jesus, what happened?"

Luc indicated the empty bottles strewn about the room.

Castiel looked around in horror at the mess, and the empty bottles. Whiskey, vodka, brandy. This was not going to be a good day. Cas always woke up feeling okay, a little tipsy still, but then hangover would slowly but surely creep up on him, and he would get worse and worse throughout the day. He would be on his knees with his head down the toilet within the hour, and he was willing to place bets on it. His eyes moved back to Luc, and his heart clenched. "Did we...?"

Luc shook his head and he laughed. "No. I tried, but you kept telling me to back off because you're 'in love with Dean'." There was a bitter mockery in Luc's tone, and the smile on his lips didn't reach his eyes.

"Shit," Castiel muttered. "_Shit._" He'd managed to keep his lips sealed about his feelings for Dean around Luc until then; he had heard how much of a shit stirrer Luc could be. He fell back against the wall as a wave of nausea hit him, and he raced to the bathroom, grabbing painkillers on the way and knocking them back with water from the wash hand basin, _knowing_ he would be spewing them back up before long, but hoping he could hold on to them for long enough for them to be able to take some effect. After ten minutes of hovering over the toilet, Castiel discovered his stomach wasn't quite ready to expel itself _just_ yet, so he would have to creep downstairs gently and wait for it. He headed back downstairs, hanging on to the wall for balance. As he got to the bottom of the stairs, he opened his mouth to yell at Luc to leave, and he looked up.

His heart just about leapt out of his mouth.

Luc was stood by the door in his jeans – belt and zipper undone, of course – and a vest, and he was holding the door almost as wide open as it could manage without coming off the hinges, and he had that sardonic smile on his face once again, and Castiel actually slipped down the last step as his eyes locked with the wide eyes looking straight back at him.

**Okay, so a couple of chapters from Cas' POV because that was the only way I could explain Luc's game, will be switching back to Dean's POV again! Well, it's gone 2am here, and I have a 1 year old, who will no doubt be up and shouting "Muuuuuummmmmmmmyyyyyy! Uppoooogettttt!" In a few short hours, so I'm off to bed ^-^ Thank you everyone who has stayed with me, and there is more drama to come eeeeespecially in the next chapter =p Love love x x x**


	14. Chapter 14

**If I don't make much sense in this chapter, I apologize profusely right now, but I am almost delirious with over tiredness, but for some reason the Boob Fairy and the Sleep Fairy have been gossiping, and have agreed that neither of them are going to visit me ]'= **

**Thank you everyone for all the reviews and alerts and favorites [= I'm just sorry I'm suffering from such a horrendous case of writer's block!**

**Okay, so warnings, violence and borderline psychopathic behavior in this one peepz [=**

Dean stared in to Castiel's house with some kind of morbid fascination twisting in his guts at just how much of a dick Luc had yet again proved himself to be. His eyes shifted again from Luc, who looked like he had probably gotten a little carried away with the beverages the night before. Dean's breath caught as he looked back to Castiel, who was frozen on the stairs, staring back at him like a deer in headlights. His massive blue eyes were rimmed with red, his face pale and puffy, and blatantly hung over and he looked like he was holding on to the wall for dear life. That wasn't the worst of it; he was wearing only boxers, and seemed to have absolutely no objection to Luc staring at him in a state of near nudity. Dean's heart began to pump a burning icy sensation through his veins as his mind put together two and two, and he suddenly realized what Luc's shifty behavior over the last handful of days had been about. _Sonofabitch._

It felt like forever that he was standing in the door way, clasping on to the door frame as if it were his last life line, his eyes fixed on Castiel as his mind forced itself to imagine Castiel on his knees with those boxers around his ankles as Luc pounded in to him from behind, and his guts twisted again, this time threatening to reject his breakfast there and then.

When he had stumbled in at nearly four that morning after an arduous shift at The Roadhouse – the leather-and-denim clad ruffians had been hoarding in to The Roadhouse all rowdy and over friendly, and amazingly there had only been one brawl that Dean had broken up, otherwise, the crowd had been in a remarkably good cheer. Dean had eaves dropped something to do with _'the end of the freakin world, man' _but that could mean anything, right? I mean when Dean had felt like it was the end of the world _that day._

August 15th last year. Dean had a day off, and being the perfect husband he always was, he had taken it upon himself to stay home and mow the grass whilst Lisa and Ben were having a day out. It was after treating himself to some Baby Time, and he was standing back admiring his work that he'd heard the squealing tires. The noise had caught his attention, and his eyes shifted from his car to the pedestrian crossing just up the road. There was Lisa, one hand raised, waving to Dean, the other clutching the hand of Ben, who was jumping an imaginary game of hopscotch on the crossing. And there was the Ford pickup. Malcolm Grey was the man behind that wheel. He'd just had a disagreement with his wife and his solution was to down a fifth and go for an angry drive to chill out. A decision that wrote his forseeable future locked up in Sacramento State Prison. Dean had stood there, frozen in time when it happened. Dean's gut clenched as he snapped out of the memory. _That _had felt like the end of the world.

This felt like the world was ending all over again.

"Cas?" Dean croaked, refusing to allow the tears burning at his eyes to fall. Before he managed to restrain himself, Dean found his fist connecting with Luc's jaw. "You fucking asshole!" Dean grabbed Luc's top and slammed him against the door. "What the fuck have you done?" His voice broke as he screamed abuse at Luc, but he failed to care.

Then it started. Castiel watched on in horror from his doorstep – forgetting his inappropriate attire – as the scene unfolded. He couldn't help but think of the final fight scene in Equilibrium as the men brawled next to his car, and he moved outside to attempt to break them apart, but succeeded only in upsetting his stomach and tripping over his door step, landing hard on the concrete outside and promptly honking up.

"Boys!" A shrill voice floated across the road, but neither of them reacted, both too busy getting in as many punches and counters as they could manage.

Dean froze for a split second as he saw something in Luc's eyes, something cold and dark and sadistic, and it frightened him, it frightened him enough to stumble backwards, away from Luc, tripping over Castiel, who was still preoccupied spewing over the floor, until his back was pressed against the side of Castiel's house. "Luc, back the fuck off, now."

Luc shook his head, that glint in his eyes as he approached Dean. "I told you he's not in to you, Dean,"

Dean's eyes narrowed, and he grappled with Luc's hands as they started to wrap around his throat. "Luc, stop,"

"Nuh uh, Dean boy." Luc's eyes flashed with that sick twist of lust and hatred again. "You know I wanted him,"

Dean began to feel light headed, and he was only vaguely aware of some sort of noise in the background as Luc continued to hiss threats in to his ear.

"You're gonna fucking die, Winchester,"

Dean's arms fell to his sides, heavy and numb, and his vision clouded around the edges as his head was slammed in to the wall once, twice.

"You're gonna fucking die,"

Dean was sure he could hear Castiel shouting his name and he relaxed, a contented smile settling across his face, his eyelids finally drooped shut. All he could think about was seeing his Mom and Dad again.

Castiel pulled himself up just in time to see Carly fall to the ground. He mustered strength from somewhere on high to drag himself to his feet, and he turned to Luc, who still had his hands wrapped around Dean's throat, Dean who was now slumped against the wall of the house at best unconscious, at worst... Castiel didn't want to think about worst. All he wanted to think about was what his Father had taught him, and what he found himself doing, drawing in on all of his rage as his arm wrapped around Luc's throat, wrists interlocking, and he dragged him off Dean – Dean's body? - squeezing, squeezing, ignoring Luc's attempts to hit, bite, scratch or otherwise damage his arms, only squeezing tighter until Luc's body finally began to give in, and he lay limp and unconscious in Castiel's arms.

A shrill scream sounded from behind Castiel, and he whipped his head around to see Carly leaning against his car, one arm protectively around her bump, and the other reaching down between here legs.

Castiel's jaw dropped in horror. He rushed to her side and swept her up in his arms. "It's okay, I'm going to ring an ambulance. You're going to be fine,"

Carly was already hysterical. "I'm not due for another five weeks, what's happening?"

Castiel flitted around the house collecting towels and water whilst still remaining calm enough to give clear instructions down the line to the emergency services.

The blood was rapidly soaking through Carly's dress, and it seemed like she was getting paler by the second. Castiel set about dabbing her face with a damp towel and helping her take small sips of water.

"What's happening to me, Castiel?" Carly sobbed. "I'm losing my baby, aren't I?"

"No." Castiel answered firmly. "You're not," His phone rang in his pocket and he slipped it out, flipped it open and put it to his ear. "Hello." His eyes fixed on the wall, and he felt Carly watching him as his tone darkened. "It's Carly." He dug a finger in his eye as he allowed a pause for Kris' panicked response, "She's going to the hospital, she'll need you there." As he ended the call, the sound of sirens filled the air, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he held Carly in his arms, still dabbing her forehead with the towel. "You're going to be fine; your baby is going to be fine,"

Carly sobbed quietly in reply, holding on to Castiel's arm, and for the second time in his life, Castiel felt his heart break.

"Dean?"

Dean blinked tired, dry eyes as the light assaulted them, and an involuntary rumble escaped from his lips as he licked them and chewed on nothing. "Whose leg do I have to hump to get a drink around here?" His voice was thin and croaky, and he quickly cleared his throat and swallowed. His eyes caught sight of movement, and switched to it, eventually focusing on the form next to him. "Cas?"

Castiel's face morphed in to a gracious smile, "Sam and Bobby are on their way," He reached out to Dean's hand. "How are you feeling?" He offered the plastic cup of water to Dean and helped him take a sip.

"Like crap," Dean pulled Castiel's hand on to his lap and started stroking it gently, dropping his gaze to the end of the bed as a half uneasy silence settled upon them.

It was a few minutes before Castiel noticed the tears rolling down Dean's cheeks. He didn't pass comment. He just watched as Dean's fingers traced patterns on his skin for a while, before closing his eyes and dropping his head on to Dean's bed. He wouldn't let Dean know that his own tears were falling as he began drifting to sleep.

**Ohhhhhh deary me what horrific Writers Block! I just couldn't get this out! Sorry people ]= I think chest infections make it worse =s Boooo. Sorry it's a dooty one =s**

**Thank you again for reviews and alerts everyon Love to you all x x x**


	15. Chapter 15

**Here goes, coming towards a happy ending now ^-^ Probably shorter chapters now [= Thank you for sticking with me = Guest reviews enabled [=**

"He's in jail?" Sam handed a cup of coffee to his older brother and plopped down on to the couch. "Are you pressing charges?"

"Damn right," Dean sipped the coffee, flinching as it burned his lips.

Sam smirked teasingly at him. "It's hot,"

Dean narrowed his eyes and punched his brother in the shoulder. "Bitch,"

"Jerk,"

"All right, ya idjits," Bobby grouched from the kitchen doorway. "Enough with the brotherly love and get on with the story,"

"Well, I think they're looking at it as attempted murder,"

"What about Cas choking him out?" Sam pressed.

"Self defence," Dean took another sip of his coffee, this time ready for the scorch. "Witnesses saw him dragging Luc off me,"

"I told you that guy had The Devil in him," Bobby laid back in the lazy boy arm chair and grabbed the TV remote.

"I'm just glad you're okay, man. Coulda been a lot worse,"

Dean smiled.

There was a knock at the door, and Dean slumped, frustrated at the interruption, but answered the door nonetheless. His face changed from thunder cloud angry-Dean to a look of awe crossed with admiration, which quickly turned to pure, untainted love as his sights settled upon the cherry pie being held out to him. "I think I love you," He opened the door to allow Castiel to pass, and couldn't help but enjoy the view of his ass as he sashayed through the living room and in to the kitchen, greeting Bobby and Sam in return. Dean followed all too willingly and kicked the kitchen door shut behind himself as he passed through it. He scurried up behind Cas, who was already slicing the cake in to quarters, and he ran a couple of fingers over the back of Castiel's neck, not failing to notice how Cas tensed at his touch, but refused to stop what he was doing. Dean took this as an invitation, and he squeezed Castiel's ass and pressed a few delicate kisses across his neck and shoulder.

"Dean..." Castiel warned.

Dean slipped a hand round to Cas' crotch, and he rubbed gently, smirking to himself as he felt Castiel squirming under his touch.

"Did you fuck him?" Castiel had stopped what he was doing, the knife resting dangerously in his hand, and his voice had an icy edge to it that Dean wasn't familiar with.

Dean stepped back and allowed Castiel space to turn around and face him. "I didn't sleep with him, Cas."

Castiel studied Dean's face for a long few minutes, in that unsettling way that was unique to him, it made Dean feel like he was reading his soul, as if every thought, every action, everything he had ever done were written on it, and Castiel could see it all.

Castiel held the look for a while longer, before pushing past Dean with three of the four bowls of pie without saying a word.

There was probably – definitely, _definitely_ – a part of Dean that wanted to strangle Castiel as he watched him talking to Bobby and Sam, recalling the event of the previous Saturday, which was now exactly a week ago, and he made little effort to conceal the hard, calculating glares he was sending in Dean's direction. Dean wanted to either punch him or kiss him, most likely both, but after having thought things through, he realized how it must have seemed to Cas. Dean picked at his pie, not really hungry, but definitely not about to turn down his favorite little treat. He sighed deeply as he only half listened to Castiel, and his mind averted to Luc. He was being held in Douglas County jail, awaiting trial for two counts of assault and one count of attempted murder. The officer who had come in to the hospital to question Dean on his version of events had assured him that Luc would probably be looking at a minimum of 25 years, with no chance of parole for at least the first 10. If he didn't get killed by the other inmates for assaulting a pregnant woman.

Dean's eyes found Castiel's, and the two of them held silent eye contact for a while, whilst Bobby and Sam traded nasty comments about how they _knew_ Luc couldn't be trusted, and if Dean weren't such a 'soft hearted idjit' – Bobby's words, of course – this whole boatload of crap probably would never have gone down.

"Thanks, you guys, really," Dean grumbled from his spot on the couch next to Sam. "As if I don't feel guilty enough,"

"Man, it wasn't your fault," Sam reassured between mouthfuls of his pie. "Luc's clearly more of a psycho than any of us gave him credit for."

Dean sighed again, and looked back to Castiel, who looked away stubbornly.

By 11 o clock, Bobby had cleared off to bed, leaving the two brothers finishing off a crate of beer and the remains of the back up apple pie that Castiel had dashed across the road to fetch before returning to his own home about half an hour earlier.

Dean spread his legs inelegantly on the couch, knocking Sam's knee and making him scoot across the couch, Dean let out a chuckle at his reaction. "So," Dean started conversationally. "How's things with Jess?" A smile crept across Sam's face, and Dean felt his heart swell as his little brother went all doughy eyed at the mention of Jessica Moore's name. "Ohhhhhhhhhh," Dean dragged the world out, leaning towards his younger brother teasingly. "_That_ good, huh?"

Sam attempted to cover a blush with a swig of his beer, a swig that he promptly spat out as Dean jabbed him in the ribs. "Dean, you douche!"

Dean cackled gleefully to himself as his younger brother pranced around the living room and kitchen, queening at him about being an annoying bitch. "Aww baby,"

Sam shot Bitchface #87 at him – JustYouWaitI'llGetYouLater – and he perched on the end of the sofa, ready to spring in to action and attack his brother if such circumstances arose. "Jess and I are... fantastic." He began to squirm in the chair then he jumped to his feet and shot out of the room.

Dean stayed seated on the couch, settling for looking mildly confused when Sam returned, practically jumping from foot to foot in anticipation. "Sammy?"

Sam opened his hands and presented Dean with a small, blue velvet box.

"Sammy?" Dean looked between the box and his brother's Cheshire Cat grin. "You're gonna..."

Sam nodded eagerly. He pushed the box towards Dean and started garbling on about carats and points and all this jargon Dean pretended to understand.

"Sammy, man," Dean wrapped his younger, far larger brother in a tight hug. "That's awesome!"

They decided to toast the good news with the last few beers in the crate, and fighting over the remote. Dean didn't fail to notice the sideways glances Sam was giving him as they slumped back in to the couch watching reruns of some under budget crappy TV show. "What?"

Sam blinked a few times, glancing back and forth guiltily and he messed with his hair. "So..."

"Just spit it out, Sammy,"

"What's the real story?"

Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly and scoffed.

"You and Cas, Dean," Sam pressed. "I saw the way you were looking at him," He slid back in to the chair, not one losing eye contact with Dean. "The way he looks at you..."

Dean stood up and emptied his drink. "I'm going to bed, Sammy,"

Sam shouted out to Dean as he left the room.

"What, Sam?"

"Are you in love with him?"

There was a heavy silence that passed between the brothers, one they both understood, and no words needed to be said.

\ C XXZ 00POIJJHHJJG4E – **A little note from my son for you all [=**

**I** **hope our boys will get their shit together soon! They're not cooperating with me! I shall be having words. They SHALL be punished ;) ;)**

**Hey two slightly shorter chapters rather than one big long one [=**


	16. Chapter 16

"I feel like shit," Dean grumbled as he poked at the eggs in the frying pan. "I'm glad Ellen's given me a couple of weeks off,"

"Dean, you had your coconut smashed in to a brick wall," Sam countered easily as he nudged Dean away from the cooking. "Several times. Again, I say. You're lucky to be alive,"

"Okay, Sammy. You're stepping on my ego a little here,"

Sam grinned at Dean teasingly. "You had your ass _handed_ to you,"

"You know what? _Fuck_ you."

Sam threw his head back and laughed. "I'd rather you didn't,"

Dean jabbed him in the ribs and showed him his middle finger. "Swivel. Now get out of my way,"

The brothers ate their hearty fry up breakfast with light conversation about their latest shenanigans – barring the most obvious – and general gossip.

"Cas was up at ours for a while," Sam stated casually. "He seemed pretty cut up. It was round about the time you told me Luc had appeared."

Dean lowered his knife and fork to the table and looked up at his brother. "What?"

Sam swallowed thickly, realizing now just _how_ relevant that seemingly irrelevant piece of information had been. "I didn't really catch head nor tail of it, but... There was a lot of swearing. He said something about you making out with someone...?" Sam looked up at his brother quietly, giving him time to elaborate on the given subject.

"Holy fuck." Dean's hands flew to his face in an exasperated gesture. "Jesus, I should have known."

"Dean?"

"Sonofabitch," Dean threw down his cutlery, clearly having lost his appetite and he dabbed his lips with the square of kitchen roll Sam had given him. "Luc fucking mouth-assaulted me when he turned up at my house," He scraped his fingers through his hair agitatedly. "Cas must have seen that and thought..."

Sam's face expressed understanding, and he put his own fork and knife down, moving to collect the used dishes and cutlery, but he left Dean to his own devices.

"I want to kill him," Dean spat. "He got in between Lisa and me, and now he's probably fucked up everything between Cas and me for good."

Sam washed the dirties and set them on the draining board as his brother ranted, then he turned and leant back against the counter. He loved his brother, but he could be painfully thick sometimes and, being the smarter of the siblings, Sam often had to spell things out for Dean. "You gotta talk to him, Dean. It's your only chance."

"Fuck," Dean sank back in to the chair and paled at the thought.

"You know what you said last night,"

"I didn't _say_ anything,"

Sam sighed. "Don't be tiresome, Dean,"

Dean glared.

"Lisa has gone, Dean. I'm sorry, but she and Ben are not coming back. You _need_ to move on."

Dean's eyes glazed and he stared at nothing in particular.

"You need to talk to him,"

Dean decided to spend the rest of the day torturing himself about what could go wrong with Cas. His favorite ideas were that Cas would laugh at him and say he was using him for sex and nothing more, or Cas would punch him square in the face and tell him never to come back again. He didn't particularly like either option, so he decided that he would follow his usual code and just chicken out. What was the use in getting hurt again? He'd be just as well returning to his pre-Lisa ways of banging a girl then sneaking off in the morning leaving a false phone number. That way he could fulfil his sexual needs, and have the added bonus of not getting emotionally attached. Perfect.

It's a pity his lumbering idiot of a brother had different ideas.

"So, that was Cas," Sam booted Dean in the ribs. "We're going to his tonight. He said he'll cook, we just need to bring beverages,"

Dean stared his brother down in nothing short of fury before flipping over on to his stomach to pretend Sam didn't exist, much less that he had just set up a three way dinner date with the guy Dean was... Well the guy Dean _liked_.

"There at 7," Sam continued. "Too much sun is bad for you,"

"Whatever," Dean elbowed Sam in the side of his ass as he sat down next to him. This, of course, set off an elegant wrestling match in Dean's back garden, which ended in the fatalities of a few innocent by standing flower beds.

7'o clock came far too soon, as far as Dean was concerned, and he'd spent the past hour in the bathroom getting ready, earning himself teasing comments from Sam. He eventually emerged at about 1 minute _to _7 – as close as he could risk cutting it – dressed in a simple black button down and black jeans.

"Come on, gorgeous," Sam hollered up the stairs from the front doorway. "Grab the stuff from the door step on your way,"

Dean trotted down the stairs, almost falling on several occasions, and he suddenly wished he'd gotten extremely drunk before doing this. At least that way, he wouldn't have to worry about making a tit of himself. He made a note to himself to butcher Sam in his sleep after this.

When he reached Castiel's front door, Sam had apparently already gone in, and the front door was left ajar, presumably for Dean to let himself in.

Castiel and Sam were bouncing about in the kitchen setting the food down on the already set table and bumbling on about things that were too intelligent for Dean to grasp. The conversation continued on in to the dinner, and Dean thanked his lucky stars that he didn't have to try and come up with some awkward small talk. Where would he start? 'Hey, urm, thanks for saving my life the other day. Also, I would really like to fuck you again, if you're up for it? Not with my brother in the house, of course, because that would be just... awkward'. Yeah, Dean didn't trust his mouth in difficult situation, so he kept quiet, and timed his mouthfuls perfectly with every pause in the conversation, or glance in his direction. Marvellous coincidence.

After pudding and a few glasses of this and that, Sam stretched animatedly on the couch and stood up, putting on a loud, theatrical yawn. "Well, I think I'm gonna hit the sack," His eyes found Dean's and he sent a message that said 'You had _better _stay here and sort this mess out, or look out' through the brotherly connection they shared, and Dean replied with a firm 'Fuck you. I'll get you for this later.'

Castiel, totally oblivious to the silent argument going on around him stood and walked his guest to the door and turned to Dean. "I suppose you're leaving too?"

"I can stay if you..." Den flushed red and looked away, ready to leg it.

"No, he's staying," Sam answered for Dean. "I want a shower in _peace_ without Dean hammering on the door and bitching at me." He offered an accusing glare to his brother and a gentle, reassuring smile to Castiel before abandoning the two other men.

"So," Dean clicked his tongue, and tried not to watch Castiel saunter back in to the room and take up the seat next to him on the couch.

"How are you feeling?" Castiel asked, without looking at Dean.

"I'm actually feeling a lot better, thank you. The headaches are nearly gone, I think the bruising has gone down considerably." Dean took in a breath and braced himself. "You saved my life, Cas,"

Castiel shook his head silently.

"I'm serious." Dean added. "If you hadn't been there..."

"It was nothing, Dean,"

"Cas..." Dean's words caught in his throat as Castiel turned his dazzling blue eyes on to him and he studied his face hard again.

Long moments passed with both men just looking at each other, both wanting the same thing, both afraid to make the first move.

"I'm sorry," Dean finally cracked, and he didn't even attempt to hide the tears. "If I had known what he was going to do, I would never have let him stay, Cas." He reached out for Castiel's hand, and gripped it so he couldn't snatch it away. "I knew he was a dick, but I didn't think he'd play us both like that."

Castiel eventually reached out his free hand and brushed away Dean's tears. "I didn't sleep with him either, Dean," He promised softly.

Dean looked up at this, hope glimmering in his eyes. "You mean... You didn't... I didn't... And you _believe_ me?"

Castiel nodded quietly.

Dean smiled.

"You mean..." Castiel exhaled loudly. "You mean too much to me, Dean."

"You mean a lot to me, too, Cas," Dean didn't give a shit if he sounded needy and desperate, he fucking well _was_ needy and desperate, and if he had even the slightest chance of fixing things with Cas, then he would do whatever it took, and if he had to beg like a needy bitch, that's _exactly_ what he would do.

"No, Dean," Castiel's voice was scarcely more than a whisper, and something about it unsettled Dean. "You were _special_."

Dean froze as the pieces fell in place.

"You were my _first_." Castiel confirmed.

Dean manoeuvred Castiel up on to his lap without a word and pulled him in to a deep, eager kiss.

**Okay, so sorry about the short chapters, after such long ones to start with, but I'm just stopping them where it seems most appropriate! But hey, three new chapters! If only the pissing internet would buck up and work! Thank you again for comments, reviews, favorites, alerts x x x**


	17. Chapter 17

**Woo hoo! We are finally coming to an end with this story! Thank goodness for that!**

Sam was wearing his I-told-you-so face as Dean strolled back in to his house mid morning looking like he'd probably not had very much sleep.

"Save it, Sam," Dean went for the coffee machine and silently praised his younger brother for having it already full and ready to go.

"So?" Sam leaned against the kitchen door, allowing Dean no escape from the impending interrogation.

"We talked, Sammy," Dean turned the faucet and splashed his face with cold water.

"You okay?"

Dean nodded, shutting off the water and sitting down at the table. "I think I am," He looked up at Sam.

Ellen called at 5 to ask about Dean, and see if he was prepared to return to work in a week, or if he needed more time. Dean was eager to get back to work, in fact. Sam was leaving the following day, and it would be back to living in the lonely house, on his own. Alone.

7 o clock belonged to Kris and Carly, whom had invited over Sam, Dean and Castiel for dinner and an introduction to the new addition to the family.

Emily Crystal. "We wanted a name to remind us of Castiel," Carly looked fondly at Cas as she spoke. "Because he saved our lives," There had been an emotional silence, one in which Dean and Cas stiffened, Sam and Kris smiled and held back manly tears, and Carly wept, before she threw herself on Cas, sobbing and thanking him in every way she could manage. After her time in the limelight, Carly drew away from Castiel, clearly marginally embarrassed by her enthusiastic behavior, but still too much in the clutches of post natal difficulties to be able to offer much more than a meek apology, which Cas, of course, turned down, belittling his actions and reassuring Carly that her over active emotions were totally understandable.

Sam had been more than eager to have cwtches with Emily, and Dean had given him the don't-even-think-about-it look that he knew their Father would have given him, had he been there. Emily had instantly warmed to Castiel, and had slept in his arms for a good half hour before he managed to set her down in her moses basket. Dean, of course, avoided any contact with the baby, for fear of breaking her, and the subconscious thought that Ben had been the last baby he had held, and things hadn't turned out well for him, and Dean found it impossible not to runs through scenarios wherein Lisa and Ben would still be alive today – all of them shared a common factor of Dean and Lisa not having run in to one another at that grocery store. Dean was twice orphaned and widowed 5 months and 9 days before his 27th birthday. He couldn't help but think of himself as a curse.

Dean found himself sharing awkward eye contact with Castiel for the entire evening. They sat next to each other on the table and brushed thighs, and neither of them would admit that they dropped their hands down and pressed them together, almost as if holding on to one another.

The evening progressed, and the men got more drunk after Carly, exhausted from breastfeeding and lack of sleep – courtesy of Emily, and _boy_ did Dean remember those nights; Lisa would breastfeed in the day and bottle feed at night, in the hopes that the formula milk would satisfy Ben for longer, and Dean would insist on getting up in the night, despite the fact he was working a 9 – 6 shift 7 days a week to afford the mortgage and bills, so Lisa's maternity pay could be used on hers and Ben's needs – Sam and Kris had retired to an armchair each, whilst Cas and Dean managed to wind up on the couch, Cas with his legs tucked up under him, and Dean sat with his legs splayed as wide as they would go without causing himself any damage to his private goods. Dean was resting a hand on the top of his thigh, and he was perfectly aware of Castiel's frequent glances down at the hand, and he felt an almost uncontrollable urge to tease Castiel further. However, Dean was still to macho to perform to his more feminine side in front of other men – he knew Sam was well aware of the situation between him and Cas, and he knew Sam didn't object, but something about fornicating with someone, much less another _man_ made Dean more than a little uncomfortable – and Kris. Well. He just didn't know Kris well enough to push the boundaries of PDA's in his own living room. So Dean settled for subtle shifts in his seat, closer and closer to Cas, stopping once they were touching, and inconspicuous movements; an innocent scratch here, a shift of the jeans there.

Sam cleared his throat loudly, shooting a disapproving glare at Dean at the very moment Castiel's eyes bulged almost out of his head when Dean pretended to accidentally drop his hand down on to Castiel's leg, post chin scratch. "It's late." Sam had a habit of stating the obvious, everyone looked at the clock and simultaneously groaned and grumbled about having to get up for some reason or another in the morning.

They bid their goodbyes and thank you's to one another, and started trolleying back up the road.

The three of them stood at the bottom of Dean's drive way, and looked up at the house, Castiel glanced at his own house and visibly slumped.

"I guess I'd better..."

Dean attempted a smile, but didn't make a very convincing job of it.

Sam sighed loudly at bother of them and pointed a bitchface in Dean's direction, one that was a mix between do-it-or-I'll-kick-your-ass with a dash of don't-push-your-luck. "Night, guys," He trotted up to Dean's house and promptly vanished in through the front door.

_Awkward._ Dean avoided eye contact with Castiel as he felt the other man's eyes on him, waiting. "I could... uh... walk you home?" _The whole fifteen yards_.

Castiel smiled graciously and turned towards his house. "I'd like that,"

They hovered by the door uncertainly for a while, creating small talk about how lovely – _lovely –_ the evening had been, and how adorable Emily was, and the usual baby discussion of whose features she has and how well she is looking for a baby born 5 weeks premature. The tension from that roused the lack of talking again, and Dean decided to make his excuses and leave, as he often found himself doing.

"I'd like you to stay," Castiel played with his hands nervously as he gauged Dean's reaction, then he followed more softly than before, "Please?"

And who the Hell was Dean to turn down that face?

**Another miniature update... Our boys just can't keep their hands of each other for much longer, surely? **

**Oh, credits to my friend for helping me with the baby name fiasco! =D Thank you for your support again, people! I shall attempt Chapter 18 before the school run! =D**


	18. Chapter 18

**Just to confuse you, this switches POV halfway through. Serious smut warnings, filth to follow! Who's gonna bottom? ;)**

To say the first hour or so was uncomfortable was the understatement of the century. There was a lot of making sound effects and fiddling with items of clothing and plucking at loose threads and scratching phantom itches. The alcohol had as good as worn off, so the booze induced confidence had dwindled away to nigh on absolutely piss all.

Castiel turned the TV on to cover the lack of sound, and they both pretended to watch it for a while, until Castiel lifted his legs up on to the arm of the couch, effectively pinning Dean to his seat with his legs.

Dean could swear he saw a smirk on Castiel's face as he pressed himself deeper in to the couch, resisting the urge to _touch_.

"I missed you," Castiel murmured, again barely loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean looked at Castiel, waiting for any elaboration on that point, but it didn't come. He knew he should answer, but there was something in his subconscious that had his tongue on a leash, so he turned back to the TV, and counted to ten to try and calm his heart. _Maybe just a hand on his knee. That'd be okay._ Castiel didn't react adversely to the contact, so Dean relaxed and placed his other hand on Castiel's leg, just above his knee. They stayed like that for a while, before Castiel silently took Dean's hand and started to lead him through the house.

"Where are we going, Cas?" He had no reply. But it didn't take long for him to realize where they were headed.

Castiel's bedroom was exactly, perfectly _not_ how Dean had pictured it. It was pretty much _exactly_ like Dean's. Bare, apart from the bed, a bed side table, a chest of drawers, a black rug on the floor. And clean. So clean. The bed was made perfectly, with a top sheet, no less, folded squarely back over the duvet, all black.

"What happened?" The words came out of Dean's mouth before he could stop himself, but he didn't have time to regret them before Castiel's lips were on his, and there was no way he was not going to reciprocate. The guilt could wait.

They somehow made their way towards the bed, shedding layers of clothing on the way. Dean knew he was hard as Hell already, and he knew the noises coming out of him were desperate and downright dirty, but he didn't care. Castiel's hands were all over him, and he was taking the lead this time, pulling Dean down on to his bed on top of him, driving Dean crazy as their erections rubbed together. "Fuck, Cas, I've missed you so fucking much,"

Castiel didn't reply verbally, but the kiss he answered with was enough to tell Dean that the feeling was mutual. Castiel lifted his knees and let them relax to the sides, the motion setting Dean in just the right position to enter him, and as much as Dean wanted to, he refused to give in just yet. He wanted to apologize to Cas, and he was going to do it in the best way he could. Dean kissed his way down to Castiel's thighs, then began marking him with his teeth, each time Dean bit, Castiel keened and cried out, Dean's hands started their business on Castiel's private region, which was already as hard as Dean's before his mouth joined forces with them, firstly licking at Castiel's balls, then taking one in his mouth whilst his hands worked on Cas' dick. Castiel bucked up in to Dean's mouth, grasping hold of the bedsheets around his head, and he cried out again as Dean took his whole length in to his mouth and began sliding his lips up and down. He pulled off to flick his tongue over the sensitive head of Castiel's cock, then plunged it back in to his mouth, this time picking up the pace, whilst continuing to play with his balls. Dean could hear Cas moaning his name and making the most filthy noises he had _ever_ heard, and everything stopped as Dean slipped a finger inside Cas. He distracted Cas from his pain by taking his cock deeper, and humming gently.

"Fuck... Dean..." Castiel's breaths were ragged and sharp, and he wound his hands in to Dean's hair and tugged at it as another finger was added inside him, and Dean searched around for the sweet spot.

Dean had taken to just watching Cas falling apart beneath him, and he was more than ready to co operate when Castiel yanked him up on top of him by his hair and demanded, "_Fuck _me," And Dean felt something being pushed in to his hand. Lube. Cas had lube, by his bed. He'd _planned_ this? Instead of wasting time asking questions, Dean obliged, and applied a liberal amount of the lube to his hand, and slicked up his painfully hard cock.

Castiel panted breathlessly as Dean teased his cock around Castiel's entrance. "_Now, _Dean,"

Dean did as he was told. He took it steady, stopping to allow Cas to adjust every time he winced, he couldn't help the shuddering groan that came out of him as he bottomed out inside Cas. He picked up a steady pace, easing himself in and out, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Look at me, Dean," Castiel commanded huskily.

In a full blown chick flick moment, Dean _couldn't _look at Cas, and he felt tears burning in his eyes, just at the very _thought_ that he'd almost lost this, almost lost _Cas_. He almost believed Luc's cruel words, and he had so nearly given in to him, and allowed himself to just be used and screwed with again. His eyes found Cas' brilliant blue eyes, and they stayed locked in to one another's gazes, each the sole concentration of the other's world, and Dean felt intense arousal swirling around in his stomach, and with each movement, it radiated through his body to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"Stay with me, Dean,"

"I am, baby," Dean dropped his head down to Cas' neck, and he trailed kisses up to his mouth.

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, arching his back and pressing himself down on to Dean. Both men cried out in ecstasy, Dean as he sheathed deeper, Cas as his sweet spot was stimulated.

Dean felt nails in his back as he continued pushing deeper, harder, faster, and he felt his own orgasm building up, the noises that Cas was making was _not_ helping slow down that inevitability one little bit. Dean held on tighter as he fell deeper, and his voice broke as he spoke, and he suspected that a tear might just have gone too. "Cas, I _need_ you," He felt the tip of his orgasm peak, and his voice vanished with it. "I..."

"Me too, baby," Castiel replied, and he groaned again as Dean reached between their bodies and pumped Cas' member.

Dean didn't even try to stop the noise that came out of him as he climaxed inside Cas, and Cas followed suit, painting them both.

"My wife had an affair," Castiel was curled into Dean's side, with his head on Dean's chest, and he was drawing random shapes and patterns on the smooth skin of Dean's stomach as he spoke. "She left me and took our daughter,"

"Cas, I'm sorry,"

Castiel chuckled softly. "It wasn't you she left me for,"

Dean was stroking his fingers through Castiel's hair affectionately, inhaling his scent and pressing ginger kisses to the top of his head.

"I'm sorry about Lisa and Ben," Castiel returned quietly.

"Thank you,"

The moon was shining brightly in through the windows of the bedroom, illuminating the room in a silvery white light, and casting the men in a soft, endearing glow.

Castiel padded out on to the balcony and leaned against the safety rail, enjoying the slight breeze and staring up at the stars. Arms wrapped around him, and a warm body pressed against his back, and he leaned back in to Dean as fresh kisses were applied eagerly down his neck, and hands reached underneath the robe he had thrown around himself just minutes before. He closed his eyes, allowing Dean his time, but tried to retaliate as he felt himself beginning to get aroused again. "Baby, I want to, but..." He stumbled for words, and flushed red with embarrassment at what he wanted to say. "I'm still _sore_..." He tried to word it gently, but firmly enough that Dean would get the hint.

"It's okay baby," Dean's erection was very apparent in the small of Castiel's back, and Dean rutted himself against Castiel teasingly. "I want you to fuck me,"

Castiel's eyes widened, and he turned to face his – boyfriend? Fuck buddy? - to face _Dean._ "What?"

Dean walked backwards, leading Castiel back in to the bedroom, and he pulled Castiel in to a deep kiss. Dean's tongue traced Cas' lips, and pushed inside his mouth, touching all the right places until Castiel was as good as putty in his hands.

"Just watch, baby,"

Castiel's eyes bulged again as he watched Dean begin to pleasure himself on his bed. Dean's eyebrows knitted together as he swept his hand up and down his own shaft, and he fumbled with the bottle of lube, slicking up his fingers in preparation, and Castiel couldn't describe how much it turned him on watching Dean getting himself ready for Cas, and he couldn't help but begin to play with himself, to relieve a bit of tension. The last thing he needed was to blow to soon. Dean arranged himself on the bed, his eyes dark and hungry and he bit his lip, inviting Cas over to him. Castiel didn't hesitate to approach Dean, and he decided it was only fair to return the favor Dean had paid him, but he was nervous. He tried to remember what Dean had don_e_ to him, and what Cas knew _he_ enjoyed, and he began to relax in to it as Dean whimpered and shuddered beneath him.

"_Fuck,_" Dean gasped, his hands flying up to the top of the bed and grabbing at the head board. "Cas... You're fucking..." He cried out and his head bashed against the top of the bed as he tried desperately not to choke Cas by thrusting down his throat. "_Amazing_ at that."

Castiel smiled around Dean's cock, and he chuckled, _definitely _knowing how that would affect Dean. He felt Dean's cock begin to swell and throb in his mouth, and he pulled away, not sure if he was ready for a mouthful of spunk _just_ yet, and he didn't want Dean going on the flop just yet. Dean was writhing on the bed, his eyes closed, his back curved in the most damn fucking sexy pose Castiel had ever seen, and he was pleading, _pleading_ for Cas. What right did he have to deny the poor, desperate, fucking sexy man on his bed? Castiel leveled himself above Dean, and kissed him deeply, trembling with nerves.

"It's okay baby," Dean grabbed Cas' cock and lined it up with his entrance. "Mmm."

It was _tight_. Smaller and tighter than Castiel was used to, and somehow hotter. If Dean was in pain, he wasn't showing it. Castiel slipped deeper in to Dean, and he began the movements, rocking gently to start with, unsure, guarded, afraid of doing something wrong. He was soon encouraged by Dean grabbing his ass and helping him with his movements, and Dean made him go harder, faster, _deeper, _and it seemed like he had hit _that spot_ as Dean rotated his hips and cried out, and the pornesque sounds coming from Dean helped Castiel's confidence grow, and he forced Dean in to an aggressive kiss, not even caring that he was enjoying this more than he had _ever _enjoyed sex before, and he grabbed Dean's wrists and pinned them above his head, pulling his head back to look in to Dean's eyes and his pace picked up, and Dean looked beyond euphoric, Castiel felt him give in beneath him, almost as if he wanted Cas to take advantage of him, to do whatever the _fuck _he wanted with him. Castiel could feel the heat pooling in his groin, and by the sounds coming out of Dean, he guessed Dean was getting close, "Fuck," Castiel gasped as Dean's legs came up and wrapped around his waist, holding him closer, not allowing him to move away. "So fucking hot..."

Dean cried out again, louder, and there was no fucking way the neighbors could _not _hear him, with the bay window still wide open and letting in the slightest hint of a breeze. "Fuck me, Cas, fuck..." His eyes were closed, his face contorted in a mix of pain and intense pleasure, and he kept calling out Cas' name as he shot his load over them both. Castiel bit down hard on Dean's neck, the relaxing and contracting of Dean's muscles as he reached his climax pushed Castiel over the edge, and he felt himself beginning to orgasm, and Dean's ass positively milked every last drop from his cock, and they both rutted out the last of their orgasms, chests sticky and heaving, and Castiel didn't even have it in him to laugh. _That_ was hands down, the best sex he had had in his life. Ever.

Castiel cuddled back in to a softly snoring Dean, and he kissed the stubbly cheek he was presented with. There was a smile on his face that he had no control over, and a feeling in his chest that he hadn't had for a very, _very _long time. "I do too, baby," His eyes closed and he inhaled his last waking breath before the post orgasmic bliss and overwhelming need to sleep took him over.

**Oooooooh I wonder what Cas means? Honeymoon phase and all that ;) Might end it there. Possibly. Dunno what else to do with it, really! Thank you for your support my lovely readers! Any thoughts/comments welcome [= Much love to you all [= x x x**


	19. Chapter 19

**Aaaarrrgh! I can't believe it! Twice my laptop has konked out and deleted all of my saved work! This is attempt number three at this chapter, and I am so cross now, it'll probably be rushed and shit for fear of losing it all again because this laptop is STUPID!**

**Oh, and after 3 months of homelessness, my son and I finally have a home again! My bathroom is black and white, just got to work on the rest now... I WILL have a nice, color co-ordinated house one day! Sorry this has taken so long; I've just not been in the right place (physically or mentally) to write. Wanna try wrap this story up soon [=**

A week had passed since Dean and Castiel had begun picking up the shattered pieces of their relationship that Luc had systematically destroyed in the short time he had passed through Dean's life once again. As Sod's Law would dictate, Castiel had been called off on a week long business trip, and Dean had been left at home alone to mope, the only company being Beatrice – whom Castiel had entrusted to Dean's care whilst he was gone; he would normally have taken her with him, but she seemed to have taken a certain liking to Dean, and so he felt it only fair to save her the stress of traveling and being smuggled in to a hotel suite yet again, and to give Dean some company – and the occasional visit from a fraught looking Kris, who was allowed over for a couple of beers in the evening whilst Emily was having a nap. They would usually talk about work and the baby and watch some butch sport on the TV, and Dean would ignore the strange looks Kris would give him.

It couldn't have come soon enough that Dean stood up from polishing the rims of his Baby to see the shiny Merc pull up across the road, and like a teenager, he felt his heart flip in his chest. Glancing down the road for a quick assessment, Dean thought better of his original plan to run across the road and jump on Castiel in favor of finishing off the last two inches of unpolished rim, tossing the rag down on the sloping front garden and moseying over to offer Cas a hand with unloading his luggage as he filled him in on how Beatrice had been. Dean left out the parts where he had sneaked upstairs and laid on the bed and allowed himself to relive the events that had taken place there.

Castiel packed away his belongings straight away, whittering on about not wanting to wake up and have to deal with it when he woke up the next day. Dean set about fixing up a light snack and a cup of coffee and watched adoringly as Castiel devoured them. He sipped the last of his coffee and ran his thumb across his bottom lip to wipe up the little dribble that had escaped. Dean watched longingly as the thumb slipped in between those plush lips and he saw the tip of Castiel's tongue flick out around it.

"Are you trying to tease me?"

Castiel looked up, eyes wide and innocent, and his hand dropped down to his crotch. "What?"

Dean had Castiel up against the wall before he knew what was happening and for what it was worth, they melted in to one another as Dean applied borderline desperate, needy kisses on Castiel's lips, stopping only for breath and to mutter sweet nothings. Dean's hands found their way in to Castiel's hair and he pressed himself closer to Cas as his teeth worried Castiel's bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck I've missed you, Cas,"

Castiel smiled in to the kiss and pulled Dean closer to him. "You too."

Dean appeared to take that as an invitation to grind himself on to Castiel more, effectively leaving Cas a shuddering, gasping mess, and Dean chose to add a hand in to the mix, rubbing it gently across the rapidly growing bulge in the front of his pants whilst his lips sucked down Cas' neck and chest, stopping for long enough to make definite marks on his milky skin. It wasn't long before Castiel's pants were around his ankles, and Dean was fumbling with his boxers, seeking the toy surprise. By this time, Castiel had slumped back on to his dining table, and was grasping desperately to it, head thrown back in ecstasy, his mouth trying to find its way around various expletives as Dean's lips closed around his member and started sliding up and down, somehow finding time to toy with his balls and trace a finger testingly close to his entrance. Dean responded positively as Cas wound his hands in to his hair, angling his head back so as to take in as much of Cas' generous length as he could and breathing hot air on to his groin.

"I have work in less than an hour," Dean's voice broke in through Castiel's pre orgasmic haze like an ax through butter, and he mada some sort of desperate pleading noise as Dean got back to his feet and made tracks to the front door. He decided full pelt run across the road and in to his house was the safest escape method, before Cas could gather himself together enough to take any sort of revenge.

Work passed with little in the way of action, other than Jo pushing to ask who the lucky girl is.

"Or is it a _he_?" Jo elbowed Dean in the ribs and chewed on her lip.

Dean turned away abruptly in a weak attempt to hide the furious blush that threatened to betray him. "Jo, I don't know what you're on about,"

"Oh come _on," _Jo leaned back against the bar, pushing her bust forward, and Dean's eyes made their own way to admire the sight. He knew she was deliberately teasing him, trying to drag the juicy gossip out of her co-worker.

"What makes you think I'm sleeping with someone?" Dean challenged, turning to face her and throwing the tea towel over his shoulder.

"I can just _tell._"

"I'm not sleeping with anyone." The petulance in his tone surprised even Dean. Accompanied with folding his arms, he thought he should throw in a pout for extra measure.

"Is he hot?"

Dean's jaw dropped, and his brain whirred desperately, trying to come out with some reply to cover. _Something? Anything? Fuck... _"It's none of your business."

"An abomination is what that is."

"Anna." Dean swallowed.

"So that's who 'Cas' is?"

_Holy buggery... Awkward... Million dollar Winchester grin time._

Dean stretched out across his lazy boy, leg rest up, arms draping loosely over the sides. He laid his head back against the head rest and let out his breath loudly. "Work was... interesting." Dean could feel Castiel raising his eyebrows from across the room. "It turns out girls aren't so keen when you say some guy's name when you're making out with them." Dean twisted himself in his seat to look in Castiel's direction. "Are you going to come in, or just let in a draft?"

Cas didn't reply but he closed the front door behind him and kicked off his boots. Dean took a moment to enjoy the vision of Cas swaggering towards him, all tight leather pants and half unbuttoned black shirt. It took a moment to register the bottle in Cas' hand. "You know where the glasses are." They exchanged grins.

There was some crappy movie on the telly again, which neither of them were really watching, but Castiel, nonetheless, took it upon himself to snuggle up to Dean, resting his head on his shoulder. At some point, Dean's fingers had made their way in to the mess of dark hair on Castiel's head, and he was gently smoothing patterns on to the other man's scalp.

"You're going to put me to sleep," Cas argued weakly.

Dean pressed a kiss on to the top of Cas' head."Quit your job?"

Castiel blanched, looked up at Dean and tried to figure out if he was being serious. "What?"

"I don't want to lose you."

Castiel shifted around to face Dean and placed a hand on his thigh affectionately. "What do you mean?"

"You moved here because you were transferred, right?"

Castiel sighed, finally clicking on to Dean's train of thought. "Dean, I moved to start a new life."

"But you were transferred?"

Castiel closed his eyes. "Yes, I was transferred, but I am able to turn promotions down."

Silence stretched out between the two men for a while as Dean absorbed this information, and as Cas watched his reactions.

"I just..." Dean stood up from the couch, running his fingers through his hair, and looking like he was on the edge of a breakdown. "I can't lose you. I-"

In a moment, Castiel was wrapped around Dean, kissing his jawline, whispering in to his ear. And Dean was holding on, tight. He was trembling, but he held back the sobs that threatened to rack his entire body. Without a second thought, he took Castiel's hand and led him to the door. The one opposite the living room door. The one under lock and key.

Dean unlocked the door, then braced himself and pushed the door open.

Castiel watched him uneasily from the other side of the threshold. He wanted to ask, but kept his mouth shut. He watched as Dean stepped in to the room and turned to face him, gesturing for him to follow. The light flicked on.

The room was painted in warm red and cream on the near walls; the far wall adorned with a busy pink, silver and black wallpaper. There were items of furniture dotted around; a couch, a rocking chair, two tables, a cot. Those were barely noticeable against the photographs. Each photo was blown up and elaborately framed with gold. A strikingly attractive dark haired woman and a dark haired young boy were the main subjects. There were dozens of photos; of the woman, of the boy from when he was a baby, right up until he was about 8 or 9, and others of Dean with her or with them both.

"Lisa and Ben," Castiel breathed, unaware that the words had formed on his lips. He stumbled for words to say. "Dean..."

"I can't lose someone, not again," The tears spilled over silently, and Dean cast a final, pained look around the room, pausing to brush his fingers over a photo of Dean, Lisa and Ben, all smiling, on a pristine white backdrop, Ben standing on a platform behind Lisa and Dean, leaning forward with his arms around them both.

"Dean, I'm sorry..." Castiel felt nothing short of fucking useless as Dean clutched on to the front of his shirt and buried his face in to his chest. All he could do was hold him.

A few minutes passed and they just stood, together, Dean in Castiel's arms.

Dean looked up in to Castiel's eyes. Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Dean pressed a finger on his lips to silence him, and he shook his head. _No..._ Dean closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Cas' gently. After a moment, Cas reciprocated, but it was gentle, soothing, reaching in to Dean's soul and embracing it. Dean backed Cas out of The Room, hooking the door shut behind them, and without a word, led him up to his bedroom. Castiel still stayed silent. Dean pulled Cas close to him, and they continued to kiss, shedding clothes on the short journey to the bed. Dean sat on the side of the bed, looking up at Castiel. There was no need for words. Castiel knelt down on top of Dean, already half hard, and he kissed him, slowly, tenderly. There was none of the roughness and force that they usually had, and before they knew it, Castiel was spread out on top of Dean, their cocks brushing past one another as they continued to kiss. Dean's hand was once again in Cas' hair, and he held on, as if for dear life as Cas lubed himself up and lined himself up with Dean's entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, allowing Dean to accommodate and acclimatize to the intrusion, and he was ready to stop, at a moment's notice, but Dean just pulled him down on top of him, as close as they could be, and angled his hips up to meet him. Castiel bit his lip to kill the groans that threatened to pour out of his mouth as he picked up the rhythm and the speed, each time Dean pushing down on to him. Dean grabbed his head and pulled him in for another kiss, this one more frantic, and he broke it off quickly, turning his head to the side, and Castiel watched as Dean's face creased up in ecstasy. The absence of dirty talk didn't bother Cas, as much as he liked it and it turned him on, he realized that this was something more than fucking. He dropped his head down next to Dean's and pushed himself in deeper, unable to stop the gasps as Dean clenched around him, and he reached out for Dean's thigh as he felt it slide up against his hip. Cas could feel profanities on the tip of his tongue, and his vision began to blur. He felt Dean surrender beneath him, and he wanted so desperately to go for Dean's cock, to pump him and make him come, but something about Dean's ragged breathing and repeated whispering of his name made him realize he didn't need to. He thrust himself in to Dean, holding on as much as he could, but Dean cried out his name, and as he uttered those three magical words, Castiel felt himself let go and spurt inside of Dean.

"I love you, Cas," Dean repeated as Castiel stilled on top of him.

"I love you too, Dean."

And there is was.

Somewhere in the next few months, between Sam and Jess getting married and announcing the news of Jess' pregnancy, Jo anointing herself as chief Fag Hag to both Dean and Cas – whom she _so _remembered from when he would stop in on his journeys to and from his brother's - and Bobby coming down to visit and telling Dean and Castiel that _he_ knew they were made for each other before even they did, Dean realized that it was going to be okay. He had handed his heart and his soul over to Cas, and he had gotten Cas' in return. They were going to make it, they were going to be okay. And as he and Cas watched the sun set from Dean's balcony, he smiled.

**How's that for a cheesy ending? I guess I want a happy ending, coz I don't think they actually exist... Heh. I'm sorry for the shittiness, I just really want to get this finished! Want to wrap up the others so I can concentrate on getting something half decent out there ^-^ Erm... I'm going to sleep now. Nos da [=**


	20. Just A Little Smooshie One

"She's beautiful, Sammy." Dean was cradling his baby niece, Ella Rose Winchester, planted firmly in his lazy boy, legs crossed, head bowed, gazing adoringly at the tiny person in his arms. "I can't believe you're a Daddy!" He would deny until his dying day that that was a tear that just rolled down his cheek. He brushed it away quickly, and covered up the action by chasing away a phantom itch. Everyone saw it.

Sam and Cas exchanged looks.

Jess and Carly were out in the back garden, stretched out on sun loungers as Emily crawled around on the grass before them. They were trading stories about their respective pregnancies and labors. Funnily enough, the men had migrated inside very soon after the conversation had started.

"Would you like a drink, ladies?" Cas called out to the girls from the back door. It was a while before he got a reply. Lemon iced tea all round. He got on the case.

"What you doing out there, sexy?" Dean had finally overcome his aversion of pet names and shows of public affection.

"Iced tea, would you like some?"

"Special?"

Cas hung in the doorway to wink at his boyfriend. "Always for you,"

Sam pulled a face at the couple and reached for his daughter from his older brother's arms. "Diaper time." He explained.

Dean grimaced and handed the infant over gladly.

"Could you call Jess in, Dean? She'll need lunch after this." Sam turned to his daughter and started the motions of changing her diaper as Uncle Dean trotted out to the girls outside.

Cas was already serving them with their iced teas, and Dean swooped down to pick up little Emily, who was reaching up to him. "Ella's nearly ready for lunch,"

Jess nodded and smiled at her brother in law. "I'll be in, in a minute."

"Would you like a banana Mil?"

Emily nodded her head and bared her teeth in the world's cheesiest grin at Dean. "Ta, ta."

Dean glanced to Carly for affirmation, then carried Emily back in to the house and set her down on his lazy boy. "Just a minute, honey." Of course, the small child sobbed and whimpered to make a point as Dean peeled and sliced up the banana. He handed her the bowl, and replied "Good girl," to the 'Ta' he received.

Little person number two began to kick up a fuss, acting as if she were starving to death there and then. Castiel appeared in the door way at the sound and reached out for the panicking baby. Ella calmed in Castiel's arms, and Dean could swear he could hear Cas singing softly in to the baby's ear. A wave of emotions; love, pain, pity even anger washed through Dean as he realized Cas had done this before. He was a natural. Dean smiled at the sight of his boyfriend rocking and calming the tiny baby.

Jess sat down on the couch and arranged herself with a pillow, then reached out for Ella. All the men in the room left as she breastfed.

Castiel sat in silence as Dean and Sam teased each other about being breastfed by their own mother.

"There's nothing wrong with it, Dean. It's a beautiful, natural act." Sam bitched.

Dean held up his hands. "I'm not arguing with that. It just feels wrong sitting about watching as my brother's wife gets her boobs out."

"Amelia breast fed Claire." Castiel piped up from his daydream.

Sam and Dean shot desperate looks at each other. Dean settled for wrapping his arms around Cas' waist and kissing his neck. "I'm sorry."

Cas craned his neck to allow Dean more access. "It's okay. You didn't know."

"Are you okay?"

Cas nodded.

"Are you staying here tonight, or are we going to yours?"

"Up to you."

Dean turned to look at his younger brother. "Would you guys like the house to yourselves tonight?"

Sam shrugged in his usual, unhelpful way. "Whatever, Dean. You staying at Cas'?"

Dean grinned in reply.

Sam grimaced. "Probably best you do."

"Kris is bringing food soon." Dean checked his wrist watch. He glanced at Jess, and quickly averted his eyes as he realized she was breast feeding Ella. His cheeks flushed and he found himself plastered to Cas as he attempted a quick exit from the living room.

Cas' eyes glittered as he kissed Dean on the cheek. "We're staying at mine tonight then, yeah?"

Dean nodded. "I believe so."

"Excellent."

Something in the way Cas spoke made Dean on edge. He spend the rest of the evening watching his boyfriend, and casting him questioning looks when they caught each other's eyes.

Kris had turned up at around 6 that evening, complete with beer for the boys and alcohol free wine for the girls.

7.30 was Emily's bed time, so Carly was gone by 7, demanding her husband home by no later than 11, so he could do Emily's last feed and change.

11 came and went, and left just Sam, reclining on the lazy boy with a beer in his hand, yawning wildly, and Cas and Dean scrunched together on the couch, all legs and hands and lips.

"O-kay." Sam patted the arms of the lazy boy and pulled himself upright. "I'm going to bed. You guys can..." He waved his arm at them. His face scrunched up in a show of distaste. "I don't wanna know... Just not in the same house as me, please."

Dean grinned at his brother. "Oh Sammy." He got to his feet and pulled Cas with him. "You might still hear us from across the street."

Sam shoved his brother playfully. "Get lost,"

Dean dragged Cas out the house, cackling loudly.

There was, of course, wild, crazy, loud sex, and Dean was pretty sure Sammy would have heard Cas, even from across the street.

That went on until a pretty silly hour, then after a shower together, Dean passed out, sated and exhausted from their workout.

Dean woke a few hours later, reflexively reaching out to put his arm around Cas, but succeeded in only grasping a pillow. Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes and waiting for them to adjust to the gloomy room. He pulled the sheets up round him as a breeze sent goose pimples across his skin. "Cas?" His voice was thick with sleep. He swung his legs out of the bed and, hopped up, crossing the room to the en suite. No Cas. He yawned and arched his back and stretched his arms out, easing his sleep cramped muscles. "Cas?" He tried again. Turning to the balcony, Dean spotted an outline of something that looked suspiciously Cas-like, and he wasted no time in approaching it and slipping his arms around that slim waist. "Cas," He said again, his heat fluttering in his chest as he breathed in Cas' intoxicating scent. "Baby, are you okay?"

Cas nodded.

"What are you doing out here, aren't you cold?"

Cas shook his head.

Dean pressed a few chaste kisses to Cas' neck before he continued. "Come inside, baby."

Cas shook his head again.

Dean sighed. He wasn't going to argue. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No." Cas answered, maybe too suddenly, and he clamped his hands down on Dean's arms, holding them in place around his waist. "Stay, please." Cas craned his neck to kiss Dean. It was deep and fiery, but sweet. "I wanna watch the sunrise with you."

Dean stroked his fingers over Cas' skin gently, and he squeezed his arms tighter around him. He felt his heart rate increase as he brushed his lips over Cas' ear. "I wanna watch every sunrise with you, Cas." He whispered.

Cas smiled and snuggled back in to Dean. "You too, baby."

"I'm serious." Dean continued. He looked up at the purples and reds and pinks in the sky, and smiled as he saw the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. "Cas, you don't understand." Dean pulled Cas closer to him and wrenched his arms out of Cas' grip. "I'm crazy about you. I've never felt this way before." He felt Cas tense slightly, but he didn't resist. Dean ran his hands down Cas arms, smiling when he felt the goose pimples raise, and he knitted their fingers together. "I can't stand to be away from you, you know that? I hate it." Dean kissed Cas' shoulder and squeezed his hands. "I want to spend my life with you; grow old with you. Get a house with an open fire and a cat," He chuckled dryly.

Cas lulled his head back on to Dean's shoulder and immersed himself in the sensations created by their contact; from Dean's lips on his shoulder, his neck, his jawline. "What are you saying, Dean?"

"I love you," Dean's heart clenched as he said the words, but for all the right reasons.

Cas turned his head to look Dean in the eyes.

"I love you." Dean repeated, and this time, he cracked a smile.

A flurry of emotions crossed Cas' face, and he turned himself around so he was sandwiched between Dean and the safety rail. Before he had a chance to respond, Dean's lips were on his. Cas closed his eyes and melted in to the kiss, whimpering when Dean pulled away. "I love you, too, Dean."

"Marry me?"

Cas' jaw dropped. "You... What?"

"Please, Cas. I don't care if we have to leave the state, hell leave the country. I want it. I want you. I want _us_. I want us forever, baby, please." Dean's eyes were wide and desperate, and searching Cas' for any kind of response.

"Dean, I... I don't know what to say." Cas bit his lip and looked down at the floor.

Dean's heart dropped. His chest tightened, and he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. It's okay."

"Dean. Look at me." Cas' voice had taken on a stern edge that Dean wasn't used to, and it sure as hell made him do as he was told. "Are you serious?"

Dean nodded slowly. "I want to marry you, I want to be with you. Always."

Cas took a deep, trembling breath, and he placed his hand on Dean's chest, feeling his heart hammering against the inside of his ribcage. "Yes." He whispered. He looked back up to Dean, and smiled. "I would love to marry you, Dean Winchester."

The grin that spread across Dean's face at those words was enough to split his face in two, and Cas barked out a startled laugh as Dean swept him off his feet and pulled him in to a passionate kiss.

The kiss quickly turned heated, and headed bedwards.

Dean took his position as alpha male, kissing Cas on every part of skin he could reach as he rocked himself in and out of him, brushing against Cas' sweet spot with every movement, making the man beneath him writhe and moan in ecstasy, crying out his name over and over, chanting it like a mantra, hands fisted in Cas' dark locks, and he whispered those three words in to Cas' ear as they climaxed together.

"I love you."

Dean curled himself around Cas; one leg beneath Cas' the other on top and an arm draped across his chest. He rested his head on Cas' shoulder, close enough to be able to pepper his jaw with kisses. "Mrs. Castiel Winchester." He chuckled throatily.

"No chance." Cas retored. "Mrs. Dean Novak."

"Whatever, Cas, shut up."

"You shut up."

"I love you."

"I love you."

**And pop goes the weasel! At long last! Thank you for staying with me (: I was gonna end the story as it was, but I had a random urge to stick a sickly sweet ending on it just for our Destiel feels! **

**I have yet another one in progress, but I am NOT posting that one until it's finished, because it's going to be a beast! **

**Anyhow, I hope you liked the super sugar sweet fluffy ending (: Why not huh? Love to all my readers x x**


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